


A Moonlight Koan

by auntieomega



Series: A Marvelish Romance [9]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: 1970s, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Avenger Loki, BDSM, Blue Balls, Bondage, Bruce Banner is a Good Father, Cock & Ball Torture, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Play, Loki is a good father, M/M, Male Slash, Mildly Dubious Consent, Object Insertion, Past Child Abuse, Priest Kink, Protective Loki, Rimming, Roleplay, Sex Sling, Shapeshifter Loki, St. Andrew's Cross, Suicidal Thoughts, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Loop, Time Travel, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntieomega/pseuds/auntieomega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki discovers his and Bruce’s life together is threatened by an event in his husband’s past, he undertakes a desperate mission to save everything he holds dear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This work was originally published in 2013.  
> Warning: A scene contains a sexual act of slightly dubious consent between two adult characters.  
> Warning: Suicidal themes.  
> Warning: An act of animal (fish) abuse is described in a journal. No good characters commit animal abuse.
> 
> Many thanks to Soprano for identifying typos and errors.
> 
> Things to Know:  
> 1\. Loki’s imprisonment in Asgard was shortened when he agreed to let Bruce rehabilitate him. Loki and Bruce fell in love, so Loki stayed with Bruce.  
> 2\. Loki acquired a pet chicken named Daenerys. He joined the Avengers, and he and Bruce married.  
> 3\. Loki and Bruce have a cat named Feynman and a toddler son named Loden. 
> 
> ***Bruce’s birth date is Dec. 18, 1969, because that’s what a movie wiki said.

_Not so very long ago…_

Loki hurt all over, but he remained standing. Somehow, standing afforded him a modicum of dignity—and at the moment, that was all that was left to him. He hadn’t simply been defeated, he had been humiliated. In truth, that was the greatest wound, but the myriad other injuries he bore wanted healing. For now, he could only heal himself through metabolism and time; he could not use his magic.

His hands, bound by Asgardian cuffs, could cast no spells. Even his tongue had been stilled by a gag Thor had, undoubtedly, commissioned just for him. The ridiculous chains bolting him to the floor would have been better suited to restraining the hideous green beast that had attacked him.

The door creaked open. His breath stilled. He wondered if it was the monster, come to finish what it had begun. And then he thought it might be Thor, eager to taunt him again. He stiffened his spine and waited.

Some very ordinary man walked into the ring of light surrounding his cell. “Fucking Thor,” he said as he came close enough to see the gag. “How am I supposed to talk to you when you’re wearing that?” He lifted the door and sealed it behind him, then went straight to Loki and started unbuckling the gag. The man’s eyes and actions displayed none of the malice or fear Loki had seen in the others. He eased the gag free. “How are you feeling?” His voice was quiet and soothing, and his expression suggested actual concern for the answer.

Loki regarded him with utter disdain. “How do I look?”

“Like you need attention,” said the man kindly. He began examining Loki with gentle hands. His smile disappeared as his hands moved. When he came to Loki’s face, he peered at him with somber, dark eyes. “Your nose is a little off. Hold still.”

The straightening was quick, but Loki’s eyes stung with tears. The man winced. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s nothing,” said Loki, blinking and frowning.

“I meant for being so rough with you.” He continued when Loki gazed at him nonplussed. “The last time you saw me I was big and green and--” He threw his hands over his head. “Grrr.”

“You’re a shapeshifter?”

“No. I’m just unlucky.” He sighed. “Thor says you heal fast naturally, so I shouldn’t be worried about you.”

Loki lifted his chin. “I don’t need some lowly Midgardian mortal wor-- You’re worried about me?”

He stroked Loki’s most tender side. “You have five cracked ribs on this side and two that may be broken. And that’s just one example. You have multiple injuries that must be causing you great pain. Even if you’re healed in a few days, there’s no reason you should suffer in the interim.” He pulled a syringe and bottle out of his field bag. He showed the bottle to Loki. “Hydromorphone. This should make you feel better.”

Loki allowed the injection and closed his eyes at the swarm of heat that rushed through him. When he opened them he found the man staring at him. Loki, concerned that the man might be relishing a god’s weakness, glared at him.

“Why do I keep feeling like I’ve seen you somewhere before all of this?”

“I’ve never seen you in my life. Not that I would remember such blandness.”

The man grinned. “Thor warned me you had a silver tongue. He forgot to mention it’s also barbed.” He pulled a few more things from his bag, then dropped a bendable straw in a bottle of water and held it to Loki’s mouth. “Yeah, it sounds silly even when I hear myself saying it. It’s such a strange feeling, though. It isn’t déjà vu, it just feels like we’ve met before.”

Loki released the straw. The man took it away, but stayed there, staring into Loki’s eyes as if transfixed. Loki held his gaze with patience and a trace of awe. The man’s honesty had disarmed him, and his face and blood felt heavy from the drug, heavy in a way that let his thoughts spill onto his suddenly weary tongue. “I would have remembered you, had we met. You’re nice. No one is ever nice to me.”

The man smoothed a few stray hairs from Loki’s face and let his fingers glide down Loki’s cheek. “Maybe you should surround yourself with different people. Everyone should be nice to you,” he whispered. He pulled away as if struck by a snake. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”

Loki sniffed. “That’s the only appropriate thing one of you humans has done since I came here.” He watched drowsily as the man packed his bag, watched him push the cot closer so Loki’s chains would allow him to lie down, watched him leave, disappearing beyond the prison’s stark lights into the darkness. As the door shut, he had the uncanny sensation that some other door had opened, hidden gears turning and delicate pins sliding into place, and he felt in some small way that a significant and wonderful part of his life had just begun.

***

_The present_

Cuffed to the x-shaped St. Andrews cross at the foot of the bed, Loki shivered with pleasure. His cock, trapped in a chastity device, jumped every time the chain-tipped flail descended. Another lash cut into his black priest robe, leaving a slice of bare flesh across his chest.

Bruce stopped swinging the flail to examine the tear. He wore the white robe of an altar boy. “Maybe we should take this off,” he said. “You look so hot, and we’re ruining it.”

“Cut it to ribbons!”

Bruce began unbuttoning Loki’s robe.

“Fucking Bruce,” Loki sighed.

“Fucking Loki.” Bruce grinned and kissed him, coaxing his tongue from his mouth in a way that made Loki moan, then returned to his work.

Loki groaned in frustration. “Just for the record, watching you unbutton a billion buttons does not count as foreplay.”

“Does it count as torture?”

“It might. The Geneva Conventions kind, though. Not the fun variety.” He purred happily as the flail’s jangling ends slapped against his thigh. He was glad to see Bruce had begun to handle the flail without cringing. It didn’t seem to matter that Bruce knew Loki had a higher pain threshold than Midgardians and required more intensity to satiate his masochistic tendencies; Bruce flinched whenever they tried out new toys.

“What if I make it up to you with nipple clamps?”

“Mmm… You spoil me.”

Bruce lifted a glass of gin and tonic to Loki’s mouth and helped Loki drink. He drank himself, then took a cube of ice between his lips, and outlined Loki’s nipples. Loki closed his eyes as concentric circles closed in on one nipple and the cube finally raked across it. An ache replaced the chill as Bruce held it there. “Oh,” said Loki softly. Bruce’s tongue, cold but still warmer than the ice cube, replaced it, stroking with motions that varied between delicate and heavy.

And then he sucked as if he were trying to extract some venom from Loki’s body while the hand with the ice cube licked Loki’s sides. Loki danced against his restraints. A moan caught in his throat. The pleasure was too intense. He yearned for a shock of brutality and wished Bruce would bite him. Just as Loki was certain he would fly to pieces without a grounding pain, Bruce released him. With a touch more gentleness than Loki would have liked, Bruce snapped a jagged-toothed clamp to each sensitive pink nugget.

Loki sighed in relief. Bruce gave a quick pull on the little chains dangling from the ends of the clamps. Loki whimpered, his stretched, pulsing nipples a confusion of sensations.

With a small, sympathetic sound, Bruce took the ice in his mouth and planted a soft, cold kiss beneath Loki’s ribcage. Loki writhed into the contact, his body following cube and tongue as both traced the center line down to his navel. The ice cube circled and dipped into his navel three times, anointed each ticklish hipbone, then descended toward his groin. He felt Bruce nuzzle against the chastity device and then a wonderful shock of cold as the ice slid through his slit.

A crunching sound pulled his eyes open. “Damnit, Bruce!”

“I’m not made of stone.” He sucked Loki’s glans with his cold mouth.

Loki forgot he was supposed to be angry. His breath quivered in his body. He trembled. He came so close, so painfully close, to coming. But the chastity device denied him release. Every hungry suck and playful tongue-flutter added to the needy ache swelling in his balls and sent futile waves of hope washing through the dull pain inhabiting his lower abdomen.

Bruce fetched another ice cube. Holding it, he drew it slowly up the inside of Loki’s spread thighs, first one side, then the other. As Bruce gently cupped Loki’s achy balls with ice in hand, they drew up toward Loki’s body. Loki gritted his teeth. The ice teased his perineum, then slipped into his hole. He could feel it shrinking as Bruce tongued his rim. Another ice cube melted inside him, followed by more loving thrusts of tongue and then a gentle sucking that made his toes curl.

A cold finger replaced the mouth. Then another. And then a third. A harsh breath filled Loki’s throat as Bruce’s fingers played inside him, toying with his prostate, urging him to stretch and widen.

“Oh, fuck, Loki.” Bruce’s husky whispers caressed Loki’s imprisoned cock. “You are so, so hot. It’s taking every ounce of willpower I have not to tear you down right now and fuck your ass into the carpet.”

Loki rumbled with delight. “Aww. Poor, silly Bruce,” he hissed mockingly.

Bruce’s fingers slipped deeper. His teeth and breath grazed the sensitive flesh above Loki’s groin. “You’re such a wicked creature.”

Loki purred.

“So vile.” He kissed Loki’s tummy and knuckled his prostate. Loki squirmed happily. “So cruel.” He chewed Loki’s left hipbone. “I love you so, so much,” he gasped, tears in his voice.

Loki snapped the fingers of a cuffed hand at him. “Damnit, Bruce. Stay in character.” He jumped against the x-shaped cross as Bruce bit his stomach. “Fuck!” He recovered from the surprise and sniffed. “Better."

He shuddered as Bruce’s fingers curled inside him. The fingers of his free hand stroked Loki’s flat belly. “How deep do you think I should go?” His voice held a taunting edge. He pressed a finger above Loki’s cock and pushed deeper inside. He kissed where his finger had been and pulled his fist almost free. “Maybe here?” He rubbed a fingertip midway between Loki’s cock and navel. Loki moaned as the fist thrust deep inside him. He moaned again as it pulled away. “What about here?” Bruce’s finger burrowed into Loki’s navel. Loki shuddered and threw his head back as the fist drove deep into his body.

Loki strained against his bonds to take it deeper. “Oh. Oh, fuck. There. Oh, there.” And then a tide of pleasure crawled inside him, rushing up on some secret shore, then drawing out again, pulling deserted skeletons and tiny grains of his being with it. He buried his head in his shoulder. “Oh. Oh—I love you. I love you—I love you. Harder. Harder!”

“You’re out of character,” Bruce laughed.

“Fuck you, Bruce.”

Bruce held still. “What was that, Father Loki?”

Loki sighed. “No. Stop. Don’t. Please.”

Bruce giggled against Loki’s cock. “That was inspired.” He rewarded Loki’s deadpan performance with a boisterous round of joyous ass punching. Loki cried with pleasure. The shock of the fisting merged with frustrated stomachache until the pain melted away. But then, somewhere through the fisting, as he felt Bruce’s mouth on his cock, a sensation that reminded him of hearing the notes of a flute breaking over a tympani drum, he heard another sound.

Bruce pulled free. “Loden.”

They both stared at the baby monitor. Although Loden, at two and a half, didn’t really need a baby monitor any more, they had started using it again because he had been sick recently. The whimpering that had drawn them silent turned to a small shriek followed by crying. “Probably another earache,” said Bruce.

Loki nodded. “Set me free. I’ll be there in a minute.” Bruce freed Loki’s wrists and, although Loki could have taken care of his ankles, freed those as well. While Loki removed the chastity device, Bruce washed his hands, pulled his white robe over his head, and slipped on some boxers. He was gone before Loki wriggled out of his priest outfit.

As Loki removed the nipple clamps, Bruce’s voice interrupted the crying on the baby monitor. “Poor Loden. What’s wrong?”

Loden’s little voice was thick with tears and snot and just a touch of petulance. “My ear hurts.” Loden was bright and advanced for his age, something that didn’t surprise Loki. He was only half Midgardian, and that half had been supplied by a man who had been a child prodigy in his own right, solving complex equations at age five. But Loden was still a toddler and, when sick, he was as needy and difficult as any other child his age.

Loki washed his hands and rubbed himself off with a towel. “I’m going to get a cool washcloth and a few things,” Bruce told Loden. “I’ll be right back.”

Feynman leaped onto the dresser and began rubbing his cheek against the baby monitor. Loki paused to stroke behind the cat’s ears. “Do you hear Bruce and Loden?” He stretched, eased into some silk pajama bottoms, and pulled his black silk robe around himself to conceal the red blotches spotting his pale skin.

He paused outside Loden’s bedroom door. It was open just enough for him to see Bruce and Loden. Bruce sat on the floor beside Loden’s toddler bed. Loden sat on the bed, his dark hair mussed, cheeks and lips pink with fever, holding a washcloth against his right ear and cuddling a big stuffed frog.

“I know it hurts, but this medicine will help. And it will bring down your fever.”

“No,” Loden sniffled grumpily. “It tastes yucky.”

“But look—it’s in a cool measuring spoon.”

“No. Yucky.”

“Does Mr. Ribbit want some nice medicine?”

Loden flung the frog behind him. “No!”

“I’m sorry. You still have to take it.”

“No!” Loden began to cry. “I don’t want yucky medicine. I hate it.”

As Loki was about to enter, Bruce said, “Loden. Watch me.” Lifting the spoon, he dropped some of the medicine onto his outstretched tongue and pulled it into his mouth. He was still for a moment, then began coughing and gagging in an exaggerated fashion. Loden watched him with glassy eyes, fascinated, and began to giggle. “You’re right,” Bruce told him. “That’s awful. What flavor is that? Boogers and dog poop?”

“And cat pee,” grinned Loden, his little hands connecting in front of him, fingers tented.

“Cat pee, too, huh?” Bruce shook his head in dismay.

“Fadir!” cried Loden happily as Loki revealed himself.

Loki sat on the bed next to Loden. “What are you two doing?” But he directed the question at Bruce.

“We’re taking medicine. We’re determining what makes it taste so yucky.” He grinned at Loden. “Hey, it’s Fadir’s turn. Maybe he can tell us what else is in it.”

Loki eyed Bruce skeptically, but played along. He was quiet with the medicine for a second, then shuddered and put his hands to his throat. “Bleh! That’s disgusting.” Loden giggled. He looked at Loden seriously. “Frog slime. I’m detecting a hint of frog slime.”

“Now,” said Bruce, “it’s Loden’s turn.”

Loden sobered. He gazed at Bruce for a long moment, heaved a world weary sigh, and accepted the medicine. He squeezed his eyes shut and shivered slightly, then he grinned at Bruce. “Snake farts.”

Bruce kissed his forehead. “You’re so brave. Good job.”

Loki rubbed Loden’s back while Bruce offered him some water. After a few sips, Loden crawled into Loki’s lap. Loki cuddled the boy to his chest. Bruce lay back on the floor, pulled Loki’s feet onto his chest, and began to rub them. “I even love these parts,” he said softly.

“I was under the impression you always liked my feet.”

“I adore your feet,” he said, a laugh in his voice. He kissed one, as if to prove his point. “That’s not what I meant. This. An interrupted scene. Sick Loden.” He glanced up, finding Loki’s eyes. “I enjoy every moment with you. Even the less than perfect ones.”

“Oh, Bruce,” Loki whispered, needing to close his eyes briefly as thumbs smoothed up his arches.

“Is he asleep?”

“Yes.” Loki smiled at the sleeping boy. “He’s so beautiful when he’s asleep.” He winced as he shifted to deposit Loden on the bed.

“Are you all right?”

Loki grinned down at him. “My balls hurt.”

“Yeah.” Bruce groaned a little. “Mine are killing me. And I don’t enjoy pain the way you do.”

“Aww. Poor Bruce.”

Bruce kissed each of Loki’s feet and sat up. “Poor Loki.” He grabbed the thermometer from the bedside table. “We need to check his temperature.” He placed the instrument in Loden’s ear, withdrawing it when it beeped. “99.1.” Stretching, he yawned. “I’ll check him again in a couple of hours. I’ll rock him between ibuprofen and acetaminophen tonight, but he needs an antibiotic. Tomorrow morning I’ll take him to Dr. Ordonez.”

“But now,” said Loki, pulling him toward the door, “I’m going to make _you_ feel better.”


	2. Chapter 2

Once they were back in their room, Loki shoved Bruce onto the bed and pounced on him. Bruce frowned. “Loki, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but--”

Loki silenced him with a violent thrust of tongue. Bruce made a pitiful noise. Loki freed him.

“I don’t know that I can do this--”

“Just be still,” Loki soothed him. “Let me take care of you.” After another, gentler kiss, he slithered down Bruce’s body and perched atop his thighs. “Stretch your legs as if you were doing an angled back stretch.” Bruce gave a disgruntled sigh, so Loki added, “Please.”

The ‘please’ opened Bruce’s legs a hundred eighty degrees. “Mmm…yoga,” Loki purred, stroking up the insides of Bruce’s thighs. He bent and took a swollen testicle in his mouth and rolled it around gently. His mouth and nose were filled with a heady mixture of citrus soap and cum. A wave of lust swept through him, wrenching a warbling moan from his depths.

Bruce flinched. “Careful, Loki. Don’t hurt me. I don’t like to be hurt.”

“Iib wobe,” said Loki, mouth full of balls.

“I mean it. I won’t think it’s cute. Even if you cry ‘mischief’ with jazz hands.”

Loki grunted and showed Bruce a centimeter measured between his thumb and index finger.

“No. I won’t even think it’s a little bit funny. I’m not like you.”

Loki nodded, sincere. He smoothed a hand across Bruce’s lower abdomen. Abandoning the balls for a moment, he turned his attention to Bruce’s cock, which looked as if it weren’t enjoying anything Loki was doing. He massaged beneath Bruce’s navel and sucked his glans. A short, rough breath scraped the back of Bruce’s throat. Loki grinned. “Do you feel how the sensations are layered? The pleasure with the pain? That’s what I like.”

“I only like the pleasure,” Bruce said faintly. “The pain, I could do without.” His breath deepened as Loki began to tongue his hole.

Loki kissed and probed and loved. He licked a finger and pressed it into Bruce’s hole, then began sucking his cock. He pulled off and nibbled up the shaft, bouncing it off his tongue, snapping the head in his mouth and letting the edges of his teeth catch on the glans. Bruce’s breath caught. Loki pushed in another finger and plunged deeper. He explored with his fingers as his mouth sucked cock, his fingers sliding in and out, his mouth squeezing and pulling. He massaged Bruce’s prostate hard and deep. Bruce gave a choked groan and gasped Loki’s name. Loki laughed around Bruce’s cock. It had risen like a phoenix. An engorged, throbbing, eager phoenix.

Loki stretched to get a few pumps of lube, then mounted Bruce’s cock. He meant to take it all at once, to surprise Bruce. Instead, he caught on it midway and gave a small cry.

“Loki?” Bruce’s hand caught Loki’s fingers.

Loki looked down at him and smiled. He swiveled his hips and took the cock deep. He stayed still for a moment, letting his insides settle, letting Bruce’s cock adjust to its new surroundings. Behind him, he heard Bruce’s legs drawing closer.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bruce whispered lustily. “I can never get over how beautiful you are.” His hands glided over Loki’s hips, down his thighs. Loki tightened around him, pulling the softest of “Loki”’s from his lips. Bruce stroked Loki’s stomach and wrapped his other hand around Loki’s cock. Loki threw back his head and reveled in the sweet fullness of Bruce’s cock inside him, in the waves of pleasure that rippled through him each time Bruce’s cock hit his prostate, and in the bright flickering ecstasy of his glans as Bruce stroked it.

He froze in place as he began to come, a cry tearing from his throat. He felt cum jetting against his walls as he sprayed all over Bruce’s stomach and chest.

They both breathed deeply for a few seconds, then Loki began scraping his cum off Bruce’s skin and letting Bruce lick it off his fingers. He laughed as Bruce sucked and nipped. He tried to put his whole hand in Bruce’s mouth and howled as Bruce retaliated by tickling his ribs. They thrashed around for a few minutes, then lay against each other, kissing gently.

“Do you want to watch ‘Robot Chicken’?” asked Bruce.

“I want to snuggle with you in the dark and mumble to sleep.”

Bruce squeezed him and kissed his head. “What do you think about getting a house?” he asked after a while.

“You mean leave the city?”

“Yeah. Maybe move somewhere up state. Maybe Jersey. Or somewhere else entirely. Maybe California.”

“I don’t know…”

“We could have a real garden, some fruit trees. Maybe we could get a friend for Daenerys. Maybe a dog.” He stroked down Loki’s stomach. “Maybe have another kid or two.”

“I don’t know…”

Bruce laughed. “Or we can stay here and leave things as they are. It was just a thought.” He nuzzled Loki’s head and sighed contentedly. “I do like things as they are… Have I ever played ‘Kathy’s Song’ for you? It’s old. Simon and Garfunkel. Stop cringing.” He wiggled a finger in Loki’s belly button. “The last stanza goes like this:” And he stroked Loki and sang very softly, “‘And as I watch the drops of rain/ Weave their weary paths and die/ I know that I am like the rain/ There but for the grace of you go I.’”

“That seems more like something I should sing to you.”

“You believe that, don’t you?” He snorted. “You know, I’ve heard you at parties when you’ve had a little too much to drink, telling people how we got together. It breaks my heart. You make it sound like you were a stray I found on the street. Like I saved you from a pack of dogs or a dump truck or something.”

“You saved me,” said Loki, utterly sincere. “I didn’t know who I was until I met you.”

Bruce hugged him close. “But you saved me, too. I was so lonely. I didn’t even realize how lonely I was. You changed my life completely. You changed how I see myself. You changed who I am.”

Loki, up on his elbows, stared into Bruce’s eyes, black pools in the dark. “It’s the same with me.”

“We saved each other.” Bruce’s hand coaxed Loki’s head down onto his chest. He began fondling Loki’s hair, his fingertips brushing Loki’s neck and shoulders.

“You saved me more,” Loki said drowsily.

***

_The past_

Loki didn’t want to admit it, but he liked exploring New York City with Bruce. And it wasn’t just because he had spent the last two months basically confined to Bruce’s boring apartment with little recreation other than yoga. Rehabilitation. What a joke. At least it was better than solitary confinement in Asgard.

When Bruce had first suggested that they start taking excursions, Loki’s excitement had been tainted by concern that he might be hauled about the city on a leash, that Bruce might begin to treat him like a prisoner or a child. But Bruce acted as if he were showing the city to a friend, and seemed to enjoy the outings himself

Loki paused outside the café, startled. While he and Bruce had been inside, a somewhat scruffy young man had set up some sort of camp outside. And he was playing an instrument called a guitar and pulling from its strings sounds of incredible beauty.

Stupid Bruce was about to walk right past, but Loki caught his arm. “What’s this?” he asked the world’s most unobservant gay scientist.

“Oh. He’s a busker—a street musician. They play on the street for money.”

Loki felt a pang of sympathy. “Musicians shouldn’t play on streets. They should play at court. Or in mead halls.”

“Artists of all kinds come here to try to break into their industry,” said Bruce. “But the city’s expensive, and it’s often difficult for them to find work in their particular field. People in our society need money to survive, and, although music is a business, it’s often not a very lucrative one for many musicians."

“Art shouldn’t be a business,” Loki scoffed. Bruce had a peculiar expression. Loki looked at him through narrowed eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. We agree, that’s all.” He stared at Loki with a quiet intensity. “Music is highly regarded in Asgard?”

“No. Not really.” Something about Bruce always made Loki feel like being honest. “Activities like bashing things with hammers are highly regarded. Asgardians like music, but it isn’t considered important. Fools.” He cleared the bitterness from his throat and sighed. “I’ve always loved it, though.”

“Me, too.”

“Why does his guitar make so many more notes than the guitars in the bands we’ve seen?”

“That’s classical guitar. Rock is very different, simpler.” He stared at Loki as if no other creature existed.

When the man stopped playing, Loki knelt next to him. “I’m saddened you have to play on the street, but you play beautifully. Thank you so much for being here today.”

Bruce produced his wallet and pulled a few bills from it. “Yes,” he told the busker, adding the money to the dollars in the guitar case. “My friend and I really enjoyed it.”

Loki couldn’t help but grin at the word ‘friend.’ Not prisoner, not ward, not even pupil. Friend. Equals. He pulled a few more bills from Bruce’s wallet before it closed and threw them in with the others.

“You do remember I’m not Tony, right?”

“You said it’s really hard for them.”

Bruce laughed at his feet. “I did. I guess acts of Loki are what ATM’s and credit cards are for.” He snapped up suddenly. “Moonlight Sonata,” he breathed.

“Actually,” said the busker, “it’s Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 14 in C sharp minor. The ‘Moonlight’ was added later.”

“I’ve never heard anyone play it on a guitar before,” said Bruce, voice hushed with awe and some emotion Loki couldn’t place.

“It’s haunting,” Loki said to Bruce, but Bruce didn’t acknowledge him. He was no longer staring at Loki, but somewhere deep within, somewhere only he could see. Loki missed Bruce’s gaze, but enjoyed the strangely melancholy song, which swirled and billowed like a fog from some spell, and allowed himself to be transported by it. When the song ended, he looked over at Bruce and found him blinking away tears. “Bruce?” Loki said softly, touching his arm.

Bruce shrugged. “It’s one of my favorite songs.” He looked at Loki’s hand on his arm with something close to amazement. Loki removed it hastily. Bruce smiled at him. “Loki, you are kind and gentle and good. Don’t listen to anyone who tries to tell you otherwise.”

***

_The present_

“What’s that?” Loki asked. Bruce had stopped sifting through the trunks they had pulled out of Loden’s closet. No wonder he had never managed to throw out some of this crap. He seemed to get distracted every so often and sort of zone out over some scrap of paper or book or something. Fortunately, Loki was supervising, wine glass in hand. “It’s either keep, recycle, or charity,” Loki reminded him, trying to keep him on track. Loden needed more closet space, and Bruce’s old trunks of junk needed to go.

With a wincing smile, Bruce showed him a photograph of a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman wearing a red turtleneck sweater. The upswept hair and shy smile suggested charming librarian, but the demure way the graceful fingers of one hand rested on her large sun medallion whispered movie star elegance. “My mother,” he said softly. "Rebecca.”

“We should frame it,” said Loki. “It belongs on the credenza with the other family photos. So, obviously, that’s ‘keep’.”

Bruce was lost in the photograph again and couldn’t seem to move. “I remember that necklace. I used to play with it when she would wear it, when I was in her lap. Pull the sun back and forth over the big links… We must have looked like such a nice little family from the outside. A prominent physicist, an accomplished pianist, their gifted son. Appearances are so deceptive.”

“You have her eyes,” said Loki gently, hoping to bring him back to something positive.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Another bittersweet smile. “Everything I like about myself comes from her, really. Loving music, appreciating nature, valuing compassion and kindness, wanting to believe—even in the absence of evidence—that everyone is, ultimately, good.” He sighed. “And--this photo is great because you can see one of her hands. She had the most beautiful hands with these long, tapered fingers. Whenever I was hurt or sick she would caress along my--”

“Hairline.” Loki smiled at him.

“Yes, how did you--”

“You do that to me all of the time.” He grinned, remembering, fighting a twinge of shame. “That night I was sick, before we got together—you did that almost the entire night. It was a small thing, but it made me feel so safe. I’d never felt that with anyone before.” He stretched across the piles of papers and kissed his husband’s lips.

“I love you,” Bruce murmured as they pulled apart.

“I love you,” said Loki, a little feverishly. The kiss had made his cock swell with desire. Bruce’s hand caressing his chest wasn’t helping. “But we have to get these trunks out of here before Natasha and Clint bring Loden home.”

Bruce’s pesky hand slid down Loki’s torso and found his wanton cock. He breathed in Loki’s ear. “Quick and dirty?”

“Oh, damnit, Bruce. Just fuck me.”

They kissed as they tore each other’s clothes off. Naked, they wrestled a moment amid the boxes and papers. Lying head to cock, they sucked each other purple. “Tell me you have some lube in your pocket,” Bruce panted.

“Always.” Loki drug his pants to him and handed a small tube to Bruce. “I’m thinking about having a lube dispenser surgically implanted.” On all fours, he pushed his ass in Bruce’s face.

Bruce laughed as he lubed and stretched Loki’s hole. “I’ll talk to Fury. Maybe we can get S.H.I.E.L.D. to pay for it.”

Loki dropped to his elbows. He grunted as Bruce entered. He hadn’t, in truth, been entirely ready, and for a single, desperate moment his body strained around the invader, uncertain and afraid to yield. As if realizing things had been too rushed, Bruce held still. Loki relaxed as a finger stroked down his spine. And then Bruce reached down and began fondling Loki’s cock, brushing his thumb over the tip and kneading the flared ridge of his glans.

Loki groaned and pressed against Bruce’s hips, taking the cock into his depths. Bruce made a soft, shuddering noise and began fucking Loki fast and hard. Each impact jarred Loki’s body and snapped his breaths short. He felt Bruce’s fingers hook into his hips, pulling Loki onto his cock as his thrusts pushed Loki down. They fucked like some strange machine stuck on high speed. And then Bruce came with a gasp and hosed Loki’s walls. Excited by Bruce’s orgasm, Loki began to cum, too. He was just starting when Bruce flipped him over and dove on his cock. He came in an explosion of sensation and light as Bruce swallowed and sucked.

Loki lay on Loden’s snail rug, trembling. Bruce flopped down next to him and stared at the ceiling. “Fuck,” he sighed.

Loki giggled. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

Bruce turned his head to look at Loki. “I love you,” he said softly, a slight edge of desperation to it.

“I thought so,” smiled Loki.

As they were pulling on their clothes, Loki’s phone rang. It was Natasha. “Natasha, hello! We were just thinking about you.” Bruce squeezed Loki’s ass. Loki pushed his hand away. “Yes, of course. Are you sure? Oh, thank you! That’s-- Great! Call us if you need anything. Bye.” He hung up the phone and grinned at Bruce hugely. “They’re keeping him for the night! Let’s finish this and go out!”

“Okay. Maybe we should just put the rest of this stuff back in the trunks and throw them in our closet. We can go through them some other time.”

“We need to get rid of this stuff.”

“It’s my past,” said Bruce in a small voice.

“Don’t be a prisoner to your past,” Loki told him. “It’s time to get rid of it.”

Bruce nodded, sighing, and returned his attention to sorting. After another hour, the trunks were empty, the boxes were full, and Loki was three glasses of wine into a festive night and already dancing. He threw his arms around Bruce’s neck. “We’re going out! At night! Like real people—like adults!”

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” said Bruce, evincing nothing of fun in his expression or voice. “But I need to rest for a while. Can you give me an hour?”

Loki rubbed up one side of Bruce’s head. “Is it one of your headaches? Are you okay?”

Bruce pulled Loki’s hand down and kissed it. “I just need some time.”

Nodding, Loki hugged him.


	3. Chapter 3

_A short time later_

Loki meant to do something constructive while waiting for Bruce, but he felt restless and bored--and curious about some of Bruce’s things. Bruce had been so emotional about this stuff. A lot of it had been old research, but some of it had been very personal. He had been all over the world with those two trunks. Whatever had been in them had, at one time, seemed important to him.

On top of one of the ‘recycling’ boxes was a small green notebook decorated with stickers. R2-D2, Darth Vader, a monkey, a dolphin, a rainbow. The inner cover bore Bruce’s name in spidery cursive followed by a block printed, grade 4, and another sticker of Darth Vader, this one with a heart drawn around it. “I guess you always had a thing for men with weird helms and capes.” Grinning, he took the notebook to the couch and began leafing through it.

Inside he found an adorable attempt at unity theory and some interesting flirtations with what Edward Witten would one day call M-theory. There were notes and sketches dealing with the positions of stars, anatomical studies, some humorous suppositions regarding the origins of various school cafeteria offerings, and pages and pages of heartbreaking terror.

One entry, dated Thursday, June 8, 1978, read only, “He killed her.” And then… 

_Sunday, June 11_  
_I have to pretend it was an accident. He says he’ll kill me. He says I’ll go to Hell. He says it was my fault because I’m a faggot and a monster and I shouldn’t have been born. But I saw him kill her. I saw it. And I keep seeing it. Over and over. The blood. The pavement. That look on his face._

_Saturday, July 15_  
_He keeps saying it’s my fault. It kind of was my fault. She was trying to protect me from him. If I hadn’t been born, maybe he wouldn’t have been angry all the time. Maybe he would have been nicer to her. Or maybe she could have gotten away._

_Monday, August 21_  
_Every time I look at him all I can think of is how much I hate him and how he should be the one in the ground instead of her. I think he can read my mind. He doesn’t even need to be drunk to beat me now. He just has to see me. Everything’s worse._

Half a page had been redacted, the words concealed with thick black marker.  
_He says he’s teaching me to be a man. He says he’s going to scare the faggot out of me. He pretends it’s all for my own good. But I think he enjoys it._

_Saturday, September 2_  
_Last night he pulled Oscar out of his bowl and threw him on the floor. He smiled at me. And then he stomped on him. The carpet must have absorbed some of the blow. Oscar was still moving a little the first time he pulled his foot up. He stomped and stomped. I cleaned up after he left. There were little scales all stuck in the carpet. Maybe it’s stupid to love a fish, but I loved Oscar. I had him for almost a year. He used to swim to the top of the bowl when I’d come in the room. He was probably just hungry, but I liked to pretend that he loved me. At the very least, he needed me to take care of him. But I just watched him die. Like with Mom. I just watched._

_Friday, October 6_  
_At school I feel like a zombie. The other kids don’t pick on me much anymore. They just stay away. It’s like they know. Like I have a disease, and if they get too close they might catch it. I hear them laugh and it’s strange, like I’m hearing a language I can’t understand. It’s so much more than liking different music or enjoying science—it’s like we aren’t even the same species. I’m an alien on my own world._

_Saturday, November 11_  
_I mouthed off. I couldn’t help it. He was all shiny, sweating bourbon, stinking. He screamed, ‘I am the power primordial. I am Death!’ And I said, ‘You’re an asshole.’ I guess my head hit the hearth. It really hurts. I got some ice but I keep throwing up. It feels like that time last year when I ‘fell out of a tree’ and Mom took me to the hospital. They said I had a concussion. It wasn’t that serious. Is it wrong for me to hope that this is? I kind of hope I’ll fall asleep and never wake up. I would see her again. That can’t be wrong to want that._

_Tuesday, December 12_  
_I’ve stopped praying. Either God hates me or He doesn’t care. The monster who shares this house with me says God hates me because I’m a fag. Maybe that’s true. I like boys. I fall in love with men in movies. I want to kiss them, hold them. I want to be with them. I’ve felt like this since I was seven. I don’t know. Maybe God hates me. Or maybe He doesn’t exist at all. It all ends up the same. I’m alone._

_Monday, December 18_  
_I turned nine today. This is my first birthday without Mom. The ‘accident’ was six months ago. It feels like six hundred years ago. It feels like yesterday. I keep sort of fading out. I can’t even remember what happened today._

_Monday, December 25_  
_When I’m not asleep, I’m dreaming, and when I’m dreaming, I wish I were dead._

_Tuesday, January 2_  
_I can’t run away anymore. I get caught. They bring me back. He punishes me worse each time. I wish he’d get it over with. I wish he’d kill me._

_Tuesday, January 16_  
_I’ve been thinking about ways to do it. A gun seems best. I know where he keeps it. Research on best methods has proven difficult, but I found a book (okay, it was fiction but the guy who wrote it was a real policeman once) that said cops often commit suicide by ‘eating’ their guns. Placement of the barrel in the mouth seems to ensure significant brainstem trauma._

There followed a disturbing collection of calculations and diagrams as Bruce threw his intellect into finding the most efficient means to end his young life. 

_Sunday, January 28_  
_I put the gun in my mouth today to see what it would be like. It was heavier than I expected, and I could taste the metal. I think it will be easy, though. I think I can do it. Friday seems like a good day. I’ve always loved Fridays. Even though the weekend is always ruined by him, I fall for the idea of Friday every time. I’m such an idiot. I’ve made the right decision._

_Thursday, February 1_  
_I’m all set. I went by the gas station after school and bought an orange soda, a small bag of Funyons, and some peanut butter cups. My last meal. I stashed it in the tree house. I’ll wait until he goes out, then I’ll get the gun. I’ll listen to my favorite records, and then I’ll do it. I’m not even scared about it anymore. I’m excited. I’m going to get away from him, and there’s nothing he can do to stop me this time._

A violent chill made Loki stop reading. He clutched the open notebook to his chest. A tear slipped free and slid down his face. But something more than sadness filled him--something cold as a breath from a tomb. He could almost feel the ground moving beneath him, something fundamental shifting.

He laid the notebook on the cocktail table, open, resting on its pages, and paced around the apartment. He felt caged and restless and just on the point of being sick. As he stalked about, trying to sort his thoughts, he came across a box of books marked for charity. A title caught his eye, ‘Living with DID.’ He picked it up and the book beneath it read, ‘DID: When the Mirror is Broken.’ With a mute horror, he began pulling books out of the box. It was something out of a strange dream. There were more than a dozen books here about something called DID.

He began thumbing through one. Apparently, DID stood for dissociative identity disorder, a psychiatric condition that used to be called multiple personality disorder. That sounded disturbing. Psychologists believed it was caused by severe childhood trauma. He couldn’t read anymore. He wanted to talk to Bruce about it. Maybe this was just something he studied. Maybe this was research.

He sank to the couch, feeling numb, feeling lost. Something was different. Some door had cracked open. Something threatened and beckoned all at once.

His gaze fell on the notebook. He didn’t want to read any more of it. He didn’t want to believe that the man he loved had suffered like that. That he had ever been that hopeless little boy. But the book, with its mockingly happy little stickers, demanded to be read. It lay there on the cocktail table and screamed at him.

Loki gave in.

_Saturday, February 3_  
_It’s Saturday, and, obviously, I’m still here. Everything’s changed. I had some kind of encounter, I think. I can’t really prove it, so it could have been a dream or something. But this man appeared out of nowhere. He was a shapeshifter, and he said his name was Coil. He was the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I’m having trouble remembering his face exactly, but he was beautiful with the most incredible blue-green eyes.  
He said he was a time traveler and that he knew me in the future, that I saved his life. He said my future is worth living for. I guess that sounds dumb, but things have already gotten better. This morning the police came because they hauled the great and mighty asshole away last night. Apparently he was running around talking about killing my mom and eight-legged horses and all kinds of crazy stuff. Kari, my social worker, says he can’t be retried because of double jeopardy, but he’s going to be pronounced criminally insane and hospitalized. I’m going to live with Aunt Susan. I don’t really know her that well, but she seems nice. Things aren’t perfect, but they’re better. Coil said I’ll even be happy eventually. So, I guess, Eventually, here I come._

Loki’s heart slid into his stomach. Coil. That’s what Bruce had written. But if it had actually been Koil, that would be an anagram for Loki. Did Bruce live because Loki had traveled back in time to save him?

He wanted to discuss this with Bruce, but he had to be careful. Bruce had never mentioned Coil or anything, and if Bruce didn’t know, telling him now could imperil him. He was the crux of a time loop, and telling him could cause everything to unwind.


	4. Chapter 4

Loki opened the bedroom door gently. ‘Moonlight Sonata’ spiraled like smoke around the room. It was the 1968 live recording performed by Emil Grigoryevich Gilels, a slower than usual version. Bruce’s favorite despite the couple of times where audience members coughed in the background.

Bruce was on his yoga mat in child’s pose beside the bed, legs drawn up underneath him and his forehead to the floor. Loki silenced the music. Bruce’s shoulders twitched, and he rose into the kneeling pose, Vajrasana. He smiled at Loki and lowered his forearms to the floor. “Join me in Sirasana?”

Loki crept onto the bed. He just wanted to hold Bruce for a while and pretend that everything was okay. He watched Bruce smoothly execute the headstand.

“Come on, Loki. I love to be upside down with you.”

“Not now.” He already felt upside down.

Bruce descended back into child’s pose. “Where are we going?”

“We need to talk.”

Bruce sat up, one eyebrow cocked. “That doesn’t sound ominous or anything.”

“Do you have DID?”

The playfulness left his face. “I was diagnosed with it. Yes.”

Loki strained to keep his voice even. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Because you knew.”

“That you have multiple personalities???”

“Yeah.” He sat on the bed next to Loki and parodied himself. “Hey, let’s do yoga and have lavender buckwheat muffins.” He deepened his voice and grimaced. “Smash. Smash.”

Loki didn’t feel like having his concerns dismissed with silliness. “But the Hulk came about because of a radiation accident. This DID is something else.”

Bruce sighed deeply. “The physical manifestation of Hulk was caused by the accident. The mental fissure that allowed him to be born was caused by DID.” He closed his eyes. “You know this part, too. I told you before Loden was born.”

“Your mother. Your father.” Loki gave his hand a slight squeeze. “I still don’t quite understand.”

“Okay.” Bruce nodded. “That’s fair.” He took a breath, then explained. “Dissociation is basically where your mind can’t deal with an experience or with something that’s being done to you, so the higher part of the mind runs away and hides in some dark corner while the rest of you endures whatever’s happening. Things return to normal once it’s safe.” His gaze fell to his lap. “It’s a survival mechanism. Instead of shattering completely, you break a little. With DID, sometimes those pieces don’t always fit back together properly, and normal becomes a collection of parts rather than a whole.”

Loki struggled with this for a moment. “So, the Hulk is sort of a part of you that withstood the abuse when you couldn’t…”

“There have been times in my life when I’ve hated Hulk and times where I’ve felt ashamed or afraid of him. But, really, he was my protector. He kept me sane. Or close anyway.” He managed a self-deprecating smile. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

Unable to resist, Loki said, “Do you remember Coil?”

“Coil?” He frowned. Then he grinned and ducked his head in embarrassment. “Oh, Coil. How did you know about-- Oh, fuck, Loki. Really? I recall those boxes being marked ‘charity’ and ‘recycling’ not ‘Loki snoop through this’ and ‘Loki snoop through that’.” He shook his head. “At the time I wanted to believe I had been visited by an alien or an angel, but I realized it was just a dream. I was going through a particularly difficult time-- I guess you read that, huh?”

“The gun,” Loki whispered, the word raising chills across his skin.

Bruce winced. “Yeah, it was a bad time. Obviously, a mechanism for self preservation kicked in and my subconscious pushed it forward.”

“Do you remember what he looked like?”

Bruce blinked at him for a moment, then answered dutifully. That was one, Loki thought, of his many endearing qualities; Bruce was a strong adherent to the ‘there are no stupid questions’ philosophy. “Everything back then is so hazy. I-- I lost entire days sometimes. I can’t remember what he looked like exactly—I mean, he wasn’t real. But I guess he was this idealized man. I didn’t have a good male role model, so I created one. He was handsome, kind, compassionate, wise.” He drove his fingers into Loki’s sides. “He was you!” Obviously a mock epiphany. He began tickling wildly. “You’re my ideal man, Loki!”

Loki cringed from the tickling. Bruce stopped. Loki couldn’t speak. Tears blurred his vision. Bruce cupped his jaw. “Loki, baby? Awww… Please don’t cry. Please don’t let any of this change the way you see me. I’m so much better now. Yoga, meditation, and you. All of that past stuff-- I rarely think about it. It’s like a bad dream now.” He bundled Loki into his arms. “You and Loden—you are my life. This is where I live. The present. The past can’t touch me anymore.” He squeezed Loki tight. “Don’t let it touch you.”

Loki nuzzled Bruce’s neck, but his chest felt as if it were full of lead. Bruce thought the past couldn’t touch them, but he was wrong. The past already had them firmly in its grip.

***

_The present_

Loki slipped his keys in the basket, removed his shoes, and hung his coat. Bruce and Loden were singing a Beatles song in the kitchen to the accompaniment of the range fan. Loki paused in the entry way, listening to them. Loden was chortling more than singing, coming in on the easy chorus. They sounded insanely happy.

Loki closed his eyes, listening, lingering, hidden. He didn’t feel like bringing his misery into their world. Perhaps if he stayed in the entry way, the shadows would stay with him.

With effort, Loki rounded the corner. “O-bla-di, o-bla-da, life goes on, brah!... Lala how the life goes—Loki!” Bruce stopped chopping celery and grinned at him. Loki managed a half-hearted smile and thought he did a rather good job of it, but that was enough to shift Bruce’s expression to one of concern. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, setting down the knife.

“Nothing.” He had been upset all day, unable to concentrate on anything. He drew close to Bruce, longing for comfort but feeling unable to voice it.

“Fadir! Fadir! Guess what I’m making?!” Loden cried from his toy stove under the breakfast bar.

“I have no idea. What?”

“Zucchini and marmalade!” Loden screamed.

“That’s random,” said Loki.

“Inside voice, Loden,” said Bruce.

“Zucchini and marmalade,” hissed Loden, overcompensating with a stage whisper.

Bruce pressed against Loki. “That looks like your Asgard face,” he said in a low voice. “Has Thor hurt your feelings again? Should I go smash him for you?” He stroked a leafy bit of celery along Loki’s jaw. “Maybe beat him senseless with a stalk of celery? Demonstrate some provocative uses for butternut squash?”

Loki snorted.

“Maybe I could just give you a kiss.” He gave Loki a soft kiss, which Loki returned with heat. After a few minutes, they pulled apart, a frenzied zucchini and marmalade recipe update snapping them back to reality.

“It’s not Thor. I’d love to watch the squash bit, though.”

Bruce’s smile collapsed. “Tell me this isn’t about that journal.”

Loki started to deflect, then surrendered instead. “You were so sad.”

“The past tense is what’s important about that statement.” He frowned a little. “You were sad, too. But it’s okay now. We’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

Loki couldn’t say anything. He concentrated on not crying.

Bruce began peeling a red onion. “I don’t know why I kept that thing so long. It’s been all over the world with me. I threw away other journals. Hell, I even abandoned research. But I always kept that horrid thing. I tried to throw it away several times, but I couldn’t do it. Something held me back.” He cut away the onion’s root. “Putting it in that box was such a release. I was finally able to let it go. Maybe it’s because of you and Loden. The time was finally right.”

It was time for me to see it, thought Loki. Time for me to act. But I have no artifacts to increase my powers, nothing I need to cast the necessary spells. Time isn’t right. Time is sinister. Time is against us.


	5. Chapter 5

_The present_

Loki, king of Midgard, surveyed all he ruled on the monitors climbing the three walls facing him. Walls of flickering light that seemed suddenly like a prison. A terrible feeling of loss overwhelmed him. So acute was his anguish that it drove him to his knees.

His green cape spilled around him as he knelt before the world he had conquered. He was all alone in the dark with the images and the inconstant light. Yet, he could almost feel—like a hint of frost in autumn—the fingerprints of something small and epic, a ghostly trace of acceptance and love. But the source of these feelings was lost like a skeleton crumbling to dust, and loneliness filled his heart with lead. His only true companions were his anger and his ambition. Conquest, his only goal.

But there had almost been something else. Almost… His chest ached, and his stomach clenched with a profound, unknown grief. Surrounded by his vanquished planet, Loki wept.

***

_The present_

Loki woke in tears. For a fearful instant the darkness surrounding him felt total.

“Loki, it’s okay.” Bruce’s voice drizzled over him in the dark. He realized Bruce was holding him and relaxed into the embrace. They spooned in silence, Loki letting his breath settle while Bruce stroked his neck. “You had a bad dream?"

“It felt very real.”

Bruce gave a commiserating snort. “They always do, don’t they? Even the good ones.”

“This was different.” Loki wasn’t sure how to explain. “It had an air of prescience, but it wasn’t in the future. It was something else.” As he tried to pinpoint what he had felt, Bruce began rubbing Loki’s stomach. He sighed and had to close his eyes for a moment. “Mmm… How did you know I had a stomachache?”

“Poor Loki. I didn’t. I just guessed.”

“You so often guess right.”

“I love you, so I pay attention. It’s easy to notice things if you pay attention.”

A sick wave of recollection washed over Loki. “It was my life if you weren’t in it. I was king of the world. It was horrible.”

Bruce rumbled softly in amusement and kissed Loki’s shoulder. “King of the world, huh?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Loki hissed.

“It sounds like I’m holding you back. Poor Loki.”

“It’s not funny.” Loki flipped over to face him. “I can’t lose you. I can’t.” Tears began to slip from his eyes. “If everything were undone-- Just the thought of being that person again—of losing you and us and Loden--” Grief-stricken, his sobs prevented him from speaking further.

Bruce held him tight. “Loki, baby. I’m right here. Everything’s okay.”

Loki tried to calm himself for Bruce’s sake, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything he loved was threatened by a desperate nine year old boy.

***

_The present_

While Loden napped in his room, Loki prepared snacks for later that day. A whirring sound, like static, like the voices of stars, turned his head. A few feet away from him stood—Loki, in black leather pants, tunic, and overcoat, a golden crown of horns upon his head. The black bruise of vortex from which he had come winked into nothingness behind him.

The crowned Loki blinked at Loki. “You’re Loki of Asgard?”

Loki drew himself up a bit. “I’m Loki. Of New York City. Who the fuck are you?”

The other Loki fanned his emerald cape. “I’m Loki, King of Midgard, god of evil, god of lies.”

Loki scoffed. “That must look good on a resume.” He topped off the popsicle mold he had been pouring before King Loki interrupted him.

King Loki strode toward him, leaning forward to see what he was doing. “Are you preparing some sort of potion?”

Loki sucked an errant droplet from his finger. “I’m pouring chocolate hemp milk into popsicle molds.”

“To what end?”

“Frosty chocolate hemp fun.” He put the mold in the freezer. “Why are you here, Loki?”

King Loki scowled. “Are you—have you clothed yourself in some sort of common robe?”

“It’s silk. And it’s still morning. And it’s my day off.”

“You…work?”

“Yes.”

King Loki had to sit with that for a moment. He stared at Loki. “Did you not grow up in a palace?"

“I did. But so did the Buddha.”

“The who?”

Loki felt a twinge of sorrow. “You’re from a universe without Bruce, aren’t you?” He sighed. “I dreamed about you. You were so sad….”

“You did that to me,” King Loki said in a burst of anger, his fists clenched.

“If you’re king of Midgard, I’m fairly certain you did it to yourself.”

“I was fine until I was able to feel you,” King Loki snarled. “But now that the paths of our dimensions are crossing, you’re all I can think about. You with your happiness and your love.” He calmed himself, gliding closer, his blue-green gaze piercing Loki through. “But what’s become of you? I thought this was a prison at first. I never thought you would actually live in such a place.” The god of evil advanced on him slowly. Loki stood his ground. “Yet here you are, by choice, apparently.” He scowled and shook his head. “And what’s with all of these chickens?”

“I collect them. You wouldn’t understand.”

They were standing so close now, they were almost touching. “No, I’m sure I wouldn’t,” King Loki breathed. And then he struck like a snake.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has a scene with a sexual act of mildly dubious consent. If you need to skip this chapter, email me at: armchairorphan@gmail.com, and I'll send you a sanitized version.

The King of Midgard’s tongue parted Loki’s lips as his hand teased Loki’s cock. A wave of shocked pleasure washed through Loki. The king pressed a finger sideways into the slit of Loki’s glans, wringing a breathless moan from Loki’s depths and urging a bead of precum from his eager cock.

King Loki left Loki’s mouth to tongue his ear, all the while working his cock with tantalizing strokes. “I wondered what you would be like. What a grand disappointment. You’re hardly worth my time. I thought I felt something—different. But I find only Loki the lapdog. A god so weak and soft he trembles in my hands.”

Loki thrust his knee up hard and deep into the king’s balls. The god of evil doubled over groaning. With one hand Loki caught King Loki’s cock. With the other, he grabbed a fistful of the king’s hair, twisted it, and yanked the king’s head back. Loki glared into the king’s blanched face. “Don’t look so surprised, bitch. You know you like it rough.”

Loki gave the glans of King Loki’s half-hard cock a sharp squeeze. King Loki stared at him, aghast, lovely eyes glassy with pain, his expression a mixture of delight and horror. Loki felt perversely turned on. Although he loved to be punished, he sometimes wondered what Bruce got out of it. Now, it was obvious. He was utterly beautiful when he was being dominated. Who wouldn’t enjoy watching that?

He tormented the evil god’s cock with an uneven rhythm and varying pressure. “Oh, please. No. No. Everything hurts,” the king begged in a pitiable whisper. “I feel sick.” Loki ignored him. He could feel the other Loki gathering his energy to cast a spell. Loki beat him to it, throwing a shield over him to prevent him from using his magic. “I was only going to heal myself,” said the king.

Loki backhanded him. “Shut up. I don’t like hearing myself sound pathetic.” King Loki’s legs began to tremble. Loki backed him against the refrigerator and continued to work his cock. The king gave a short cry when Loki thrust a fist between his groin and navel, where an ache had spread following the kneeing. Loki grinned in his adversary’s pained face, massaging beneath his navel. King Loki whimpered. Loki began nurturing his cock rather than teasing it and enjoyed the king’s soft moans of pleasure. He placed one of the king’s hands around his own erection. “Do me,” he whispered in the god of evil’s ear. Soft eyes looked into his, and the king complied with skill and ardor.

King Loki closed his eyes and threw his head back, gasping, as he came. Loki bit his bared throat and came as well. He grinned into King Loki’s dizzy face. He looked thoroughly humiliated and rather confused. “Poor Loki,” Loki said sympathetically. He kissed the king’s slightly trembling lips. Loki kissed him roughly at first, then thawed until his tongue was gently caressing the mouth of his other self. King Loki kissed him back with surprising tenderness. “Mmm. Who knew Bad Loki would be so fucking hot?”

Bad Loki looked very close to tears. Loki decided to leave him be for a moment while they adjusted their clothes. “Fadir! Fadir! Look what I d--” Loden stopped in his tracks, midway through the kitchen. He was wearing his helm and footed green pajamas with a dragon tail. “Two Fadirs?”

Before Loki could answer, Loden was all over King Loki. The king knelt. “I like your crown," Loden said excitedly. "Your cape is soft. See my drawing? That’s me. That’s Daddy. That’s Fadir. That’s Feynman. And that’s Daenerys.”

“And what’s that?” asked the king.

“That’s a black hole,” Loden replied matter-of-factly. “It’s going to eat us.” He caressed the king’s face. “You’re a very good spell.” His bright eyes fastened on Loki. “I want one.”

The open fascination on King Loki’s face raised the hairs on Loki’s arms. “Go to your room,” he told Loden.

“I want to learn that spell!”

“Go. To. Your. Room. NOW!”

Loden sighed heavily and marched to his room.

King Loki rose, staring after Loden. When he spoke, his voice was quiet with awe. “That’s ours?”

“That’s mine. You have a world, remember?”

“You managed a true heir—although heir to what I can’t fathom. And you choose to raise him in this midden heap--”

“Do you have any idea what rent’s like in Manhattan? This place isn’t that bad.”

“He’s a prince. He should be in a palace--”

Loki stepped between the king and the hallway. “Don’t even think about it. I’ll hunt you down and flay you to your bones with your own spells. And don’t imagine for a second that I can’t or I won’t.”

The king inclined his head demurely. “I was making observations, not threats.”

“Don’t try to Loki me.” Loki smirked in spite of himself. “Nice try, though.”

King Loki gave a small shrug and walked, as if drawn, to the credenza in the living area. He inspected the framed photos scattered on it, picking one up every so often for closer examination. Loki watched him quietly. “You’re happy,” the king whispered, stroking a picture frame.

“You’re not,” said Loki, with a touch of shame. “You’re a hollow insatiable madness of want and need and resentment. Nothing fills the void within you. Nothing ever lights your darkness. Nothing is ever, ever enough.”

The king’s cape swirled a little as he turned to look at Loki, but the god of evil offered no argument.

“You’re already planning an attack on Asgard, aren’t you? One world isn’t enough. Two won’t satisfy, either. No matter how much you take, you’re always an empty shell. And the more damage you do to fill that emptiness, the more of yourself you lose.”

The king remained silent, regarding Loki with shimmering eyes. Loki sighed at him, and felt nothing but pity and sadness. “You accused me of making you miserable, but you were miserable before this. I only proved that your life doesn’t have to be that way.” He shook his head. “And I imagine this discussion is being made worse by the fact that your balls are still throbbing and your stomach aches.”

“I’m fine.”

Loki closed the distance between them and caught the king’s genitals in one hand, taking a perverse delight in the king’s twist of agony. He covered the king’s mouth with his own, inhaling the other’s angry hiss, and healed the king’s bruised flesh and tortured nerves.

King Loki pushed himself free. “You can heal others,” he said, amazed.

Loki shrugged. “You’re just me.” Realization flooded him. “You’re…just…me…without Bruce.” Overcome by a rush of sympathy and love, he stroked King Loki’s face. “Some of us need help to crawl out of the dark. Some can’t make it on their own.” He smoothed the king’s hair behind his ear. “Poor Loki.”

King Loki blinked a little like Loden when he was sleepy. “Why do I like that?”

Loki grinned. “I know, right? I got that from Bruce. Are you hungry? I’m always famished after interdimensional travel.”

King Loki stared at him in bewilderment. “I--”

Loki shoved him onto the couch. “Good.” He grabbed a large covered bowl from the breakfast bar, opened it, and sat next to King Loki with the bowl between them. “Homemade granola,” he explained as the king studied the contents of the bowl.

King Loki munched granola and frowned in bewilderment. “You can’t heal others, but you can heal me because I’m you, even though I’m a different version of you--”

Loki pulled the dagger from the king’s belt and handed it to him. He removed the shield blocking the king’s powers with a quick gesture. “Cut the back of my hand and heal it.”

After a moment’s hesitation in which the king’s blue-green eyes appeared to weigh his options, he made a small, careful incision on the back of Loki’s left hand. He covered it with both of his own and closed his eyes. When he withdrew, the mark remained, seeping a raised line of blood.

Loki healed it with the barest thought and a slight finger movement.

“You’re stronger than I am,” said King Loki with a pained expression.

“I thought we established that in the kitchen, but-- Good is always stronger than evil. Evil just has better fashion sense.”

Loden barreled into the room, almost obscured by the big stuffed green frog in his arms. He thrust it into King Loki’s chest. “Ribbit! Ribbit!”

King Loki laughed. “What’s this?”

“Loden, I told you to stay in your room.”

Loden squirmed into the king’s lap. “That’s Mister Ribbit. You hug him, and he makes you feel better.”

Loki’s jaw tightened. “Loden--”

“Ribbit! Ribbit!” Loden shouted, scurrying off King Loki and running back to his room. He returned moments later with a backpack stuffed with toys. He scampered up King Loki, who was still holding Mister Ribbit.

“Loden,” Loki said sharply.

King Loki, lap full of plush frog and horn-helmed toddler, looked at Loki with tearful sincerity. “I would never hurt him.”

Loki smiled at him gently. “At this point, he isn’t the one I’m worried about.”

Loden slapped a plastic Iron Man mask on King Loki’s face. “You can be Iron Man.” He shoved a spring antenna headband onto King Loki’s head. “Or a butterfly.” The antenna bobbed as King Loki tried to push the Iron Man mask away. Loden helped him and quickly replaced it with another. The plastic clacked as it hit the king’s face. “Or a stormtrooper.”

“Loden, you’re hurting him. Be gentle.”

Loden pulled the mask away and peered into King Loki’s eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

“A little.”

Loden hugged the king’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

The king rubbed the boy’s back. The ridiculous antenna waved above his crown.

Feynman, who had been hiding under the cocktail table, ran toward the entry way. As Bruce entered the apartment, the cat wove between his legs. “I’m home early because they’re painting---” Bruce stopped in his tracks and stared. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Daddy!” shrieked Loden, bounding off King Loki’s lap and hurtling himself at Bruce. Bruce gathered him in his arms and brought him into the living area.

Loki smiled. “Bruce this is Bad Loki. Bad Loki, this is my husband, Bruce Banner.”

“Bad Loki?” Bruce, with Loden wrapped around his neck and Feynman rubbing his shins, sat on the nearby chair. “There’s no such creature.”

King Loki blinked at him. Drawing himself up to a more regal position, he said, antenna bobbing, “In my dimension, I’m Loki, King of Midgard.” There was a note of softness to his voice that had not been there before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness.” He bowed his head slightly.

Loki groaned. “Stop being so indulgent. He’s a despot. He---”

“Be nice to him. He’s our guest.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “He’s just me.”

“A different version of you,” said King Loki.

“All the more reason to be nice to him,” said Bruce. He looked about. “Am I here, too?”

“I’ve never met you before,” said King Loki. “I’ve never even heard of you.”

“Oh. So I guess-- What about the Hulk? Surely you’ve heard of him.”

King Loki shook his head.

“Big. Green. Smashes things. Probably hangs out with the Avengers.”

King Loki scowled. “The Avengers. No. I’m all too familiar with them, and there’s no one like that with them.”

“Oh,” said Bruce. “I suppose in your universe the accident never happened. I must be some normal scientist somewhere.” He grinned, apparently pleased at the thought. He must have caught the look of utter despair on Loki’s face, however, for he sobered and added quickly, “But how tragic that Loki and I are apart.”

Loden demanded Bruce’s attention and began telling him about something. King Loki watched Bruce intently. He seemed to have forgotten Loki was there at all. Loki pried the antenna from the other Loki’s head. “This will give you a headache if you wear it too long.”

King Loki winced at Loki’s roughness, then touched his fingers to the sides of his head. “I think it already has.”

Loki snorted and began massaging King Loki’s temples. He caught Bruce staring at them. It was the same way Feynman stared at pigeons out the window. “Would you like to stay with us for a little while?” he whispered in King Loki’s ear. “Have some sexy fun?”

“Just you and Bruce, right? No horses?”

“Just the three of us.”

Bruce lobbed a stuffed squid onto Loki’s lap. “What’s going on over there?”

Loki grinned at him. “It _is_ your birthday.”

“Loden!” said Bruce. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“You’re going to spend the night with Janine and Dagmar. Yay!”

Loden squealed. “Yay!”

Bruce turned to Loki. “I’m going to pack his things. You go over there and Loki Dagmar. I’m know she’s home today; I just saw her out in the hall.”

They flew into a flurry of activity. As Loki was about to leave with Loden, he blocked King Loki’s powers.

King Loki wilted a little. “What did you do to him?” asked Bruce.

When Loki explained, Bruce protested, calling it inhumane. He wouldn’t shut up until Loki removed the spell. Loki whispered to Bruce, “Are you sure you’ll be okay alone with him?”

“We’ll be fine. I can handle Lokis.”

“You’re not Hulk. He can hurt you before you turn.” And then he looked at King Loki, sitting demurely on their couch covered in stuffed animals and toys, watching Bruce with pie-eyes. Loki shook his head. “You’re right. What am I worried about? He’s already crushing on you.”


	7. Chapter 7

_Fifteen minutes later._

Loki returned to find King Loki sprawled on the couch with his bare feet up, deep into a large frozen margarita.

“Loki?” Bruce called from the kitchen. “Can I have a word with you?”

Loki met him by the refrigerator. Bruce pointed to a Loki-sized ass print on the stainless steel door. “I take it you two got started without me?”

“Bruce, it’s not what it looks like. In the sorcerer community this is a common, accepted practice. It’s just elaborate masturbation.”

Bruce sighed, his head down, face close to Loki’s but turned away. “How can you be so callous? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

“Oh, Bruce…”

“Please. Promise me that if this happens again, you’ll do it behind a locked door so Loden can’t walk in on you---” He took a heavy, steadying breath. “And for fuck’s sake, get pictures! Movies would be better, but at least some fucking pictures.” He pressed his forehead against Loki’s grinning. “Documentation, documentation, documentation. Fuck.” He licked Loki’s nose. “Mischief!”

“You fucking suck.” Loki cringed ticklishly as Bruce kissed his ear.

“You suck more,” Bruce whispered.

Loki nipped Bruce’s lower lip and thrust his tongue into the scientist’s mouth.

A loud sound of throat clearing came from the breakfast bar behind them. “Maybe I should go.”

“Oh, poor Loki,” said Bruce. “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to make you feel left out.” He drew up alongside King Loki and smoothed his hair back. “I know how much you hate that. What that means to you.” King Loki’s lashes fluttered. “You’ll find no rejection here. I promise.”

King Loki stared at Bruce for a second, then lunged at him, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Loki glided up behind King Loki, pulled his dark hair aside and nibbled down his neck. King Loki arched back at Loki’s touch and swooned forward when Bruce’s hand smoothed down his stomach and found his cock. With kisses and caresses, Loki removed the king’s clothes while Bruce rubbed the king’s cock to throbbing hardness.

Gently, Bruce guided the king’s legs apart. Loki kissed the small of King Loki’s back and grazed short nails down the sides of his long, slender torso, raising gooseflesh and disrupting the king’s breath. Bruce tongued the king’s balls.

Loki found Bruce between the king’s legs and stroked his cheek. They stopped to kiss briefly. And then Bruce took King Loki’s cock in his mouth, and Loki began bathing the king’s rim with his tongue.

King Loki uttered a guttural noise. His legs wobbled, and he almost fell. Perhaps, Loki thought, because of the stress of interdimensional travel, the margarita had hit the king especially hard. Loki found his doppelganger’s inebriation rather unseemly. Bruce found it sweet. He held the king against his chest and smoothed a hand up and down his back. “You’re all right,” he soothed. “We’re not going to let you fall.” To Loki, he said, “Why don’t you show him some love while I set up the sling?”

Loki led the king to the couch and licked and sucked his nipples until Bruce was ready for them in the bedroom. Bruce helped Loki guide King Loki into the bedroom. Together, they poured him on the sling, face up. The chains suspending the sling from its black metal frame jangled as they bound King Loki’s feet into the black stirrups at one end and his wrists to the spreader bar at the other.

Bruce rubbed King Loki’s nearest shoulder. “This is just to keep you stabilized while we play with you. We don’t have to do anything rough. And we’re not going to do anything you don’t want to do.” He looked at Loki. “How about lipoprotein electrophoresis for a safe word?”

“Sounds great!”

King Loki groaned. “What?”

Loki dropped his cock on King Loki’s face. “Suck that, King of Midgard.”

Bruce was not amused. “Is that the way you like to be treated? Because, obviously, I’ve been doing something wrong.”

Loki felt a blush creep up his face. He stroked King Loki’s hair. “Poor Loki. Nice Loki. I care about your self-esteem.” He poked his cock at the King’s mouth. “Now, suck it.”

King Loki complied. Bruce groaned and turned his attention to King Loki’s cock. Loki wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in King Loki’s hot mouth, but he couldn’t help watching Bruce work King Loki’s cock. There was something delightfully kinky about having his cock sucked while watching his love suck a cock that looked exactly like his own. 

“I have a beautiful cock,” he said.

Bruce laughed, choking on cock, and looked up at him. “Yes. I’ve always thought so.” He returned to his task, gliding a hand across King Loki’s stomach.

Loki’s stomach shivered. King Loki’s tongue flicked around his glans. King Loki didn’t give bad head, but he used his teeth a bit too much. He winced as King Loki’s bicuspid raked his glans. For a split second, he thought about backhanding the king. Instead, he stroked the cheekbone turned toward him. An eye of breathtaking blue-green focused on his own. Loki slipped a finger in the king’s mouth and pulled himself free.

He knelt and brought his face level with King Loki’s. King Loki stared at him with a mixture of wonder and fear. With all the tenderness he could muster, Loki kissed the king’s mouth. He loved the other with his tongue and invited him into his mouth. All the while, his long fingers played in King Loki’s silken hair or trailed across his beautiful face.

A deep spasm ran through King Loki’s body. He disengaged from Loki’s mouth to groan in his hair. A glance at the other end of the sling revealed Bruce with busy mouth and hands. Chains rattled as King Loki moaned and twisted. As Loki dropped to kiss his lips, the king rasped, “For a Midgardian, he certainly knows his way around a prostate.”

Loki laughed and kissed the king’s forehead. He walked to Bruce’s end and took over sucking King Loki’s cock so Bruce could devote his full attention to rimming and fingering the king’s hole. He mouthed the king’s glans and nibbled the king’s shaft while Bruce worked his hand inside.

While Bruce let King Loki’s hole adjust to his fist, Loki left King Loki’s cock to raid their toy chest. He found a large black vibrator with wide ridges and brought it to the party. Facing Bruce and King Loki’s cock, he straddled King Loki, freed a wrist, and handed him the vibrator. Then he more or less sat on King Loki’s face, letting the king rim him.

King Loki licked Loki’s hole with staccato strokes interrupted by gasps and moans as Bruce fisted Midgard’s king. Loki slid forward to play with King Loki’s cock and was pleased when he heard the vibrator hum to life. He was less pleased when King Loki stabbed him with it as if trying to impale a foe, but, after a moment, a shivery pleasure crawled through Loki and all was forgiven.

“Loki,” Bruce said suddenly. “Would you like to fuck your self?”

Loki slapped the vibrator out of King Loki’s hands and stepped over the sling. “Are you telling me to go fuck my self?”

"I believe I’m only asking.” He brushed Loki’s throbbing cock with his palm.

“Will you fuck me while I fuck him?”

Bruce kissed Loki’s shoulder. “I’m always happy to fuck you.”

Loki pushed into King Loki’s hole eagerly. Somewhat caved by the fisting, it accepted him without a fight. From behind, Bruce’s cock filled him. Bruce began ramming him, deeply and firmly. Loki let the momentum rock him into King Loki. The sling swayed with their movements. Chains rattled. Moans and gasps filled the air. Loki tugged on the king’s cock.

King Loki came with a cry like a wounded animal and an impressive explosion of cum. If the noise and spray hadn’t excited Loki enough, he felt Bruce cumming inside him, too. Loki closed his eyes and felt as if the universe had culminated in a single point at the end of his cock. And then it exploded.

He dropped to the floor, panting, watching dazedly while Bruce freed King Loki. Bruce coaxed both of them into a huddle. “Let’s get clean, and then we’ll eat something. What about shitake frittatas?”


	8. Chapter 8

_Later that night_

Loki kissed the back of Bruce’s sleeping head and rolled over to stroke King Loki’s hair. Lips kissed his fingers in the dark. “You’re awake?” Loki whispered.

“Yes.”

Loki slid his hand down King Loki’s stomach, which he imagined was rather sore from fisting and maybe a touch too full; he had been surprised by how much the king had eaten. “How are you feeling?”

An amused snort. “Like I’ve been kidnapped by fairies.”

"You’re free to leave whenever you wish,” Loki said with a grin, tracing around the other’s navel.

He pressed his lips against Loki’s. “I don’t wish it yet,” he whispered into Loki’s mouth. He stretched. “I’m dying for a cigarette. Can I smoke in here?”

Loki tried to imagine Bruce’s response to that. “Why don’t we go on the roof? You can meet Daenerys.”

They brought a half-filled bottle of wine to the roof with them. King Loki lit a cigarette, closing his eyes as he inhaled. “I picked it up in Cairo last summer,” he said, the words emerging as smoke. “Everyone smokes there.” He sighed. “I can’t seem to stop.”

“I don’t know that it’s bad for us,” said Loki. “But it wouldn’t be good for Bruce or Loden.”

“Bruce and Loden,” King Loki said softly. “I got the world, and you got Bruce and Loden. I think you got the better end of that bargain.” He drank from the bottle and passed it to Loki, then stared into the night. “Who’s Daenerys?”

Loki led him to the chicken coop. At his call, the hen woke and left her box to greet him. King Loki laughed as Loki opened the gate. “You can’t be serious!” But he crouched to pet the chicken as Loki pulled her into his lap. “She’s so soft,” he breathed. He made a small, whimpery noise as Daenerys rubbed her head against his hand.

“She’s a white cochin. They’re very friendly.” Loki smiled. “And they have this lovely fringe on their legs. You can hold her.”

King Loki sat. Holding the cigarette in his mouth, he traded Loki the wine for the chicken. He smoothed both hands down her body, then held the cigarette in one hand while he petted her with the other. “She must be made of silk and magic.”

“We’ve always liked animals.”

“True. And look at our children.”

Loki sighed. “Except for the trolls.”

“Trolls,” said King Loki dourly. “Would it kill them to call once in a while?”

They sighed in unison, and Loki laughed.

After a pause, King Loki said, “Bruce thinks my world’s version of him must be a normal, nonsuperhero scientist. Do you think-- I mean, obviously this one worships you, but if I were to find mine--”

“Your universe’s Bruce is dead.”

“Oh.” King Loki crushed out his cigarette and cradled Daenerys with both hands.

“In your universe Bruce, as a little boy, was so terrorized by his father that he took his own life.”

“Would this father still be alive?” King Loki asked, a dangerous glint in his eye. “You know how I feel about bad fathers.”

“Don’t worry about him. He isn’t worth it.”

“We’ll see.” King Loki stroked Daenerys’ neck. “How did your Bruce survive?”

Loki hesitated, wondering if he should trust his doppelganger with all of it. He found he could not lie to himself anymore. “In mine, I traveled back in time and saved him.”

“And you recently discovered this,” said King Loki.

“Yes.”

“But you haven’t gone. That’s why there’s a flux. Why I’m able to feel you on my side.” An urgency entered his voice. “Your discovery opened the paradox. You do realize the loop will close with or without you, right? You have to go. If you don’t do it soon, your universe will cease to be. Mine will be the only outcome.”

“I’ve never time traveled without something enhancing my powers.”

“You’re on speaking terms with Thor. Can’t you ask him to unseal your tomes and bring them to you? Surely there’s some spell--”

“They burned all of my things. Purged Asgard of my ‘dark magic’.”

“They always hated us,” said King Loki. “I suppose exile wasn’t enough.”

“I choose to believe it was ignorance rather than malice.” He stared up at the darkness. “But it hurt all the same.”

King Loki handed Daenerys to Loki and fished out another cigarette. Loki drained the wine bottle and fought to hold his fear and sadness at bay. The fuzzy chicken in his lap helped with that a little.

“I enjoy jumping dimensions,” said King Loki. “I’ve encountered other Lokis before.” The cherry of his cigarette brightened in the dark as he pulled on it. “This is the first time I’ve looked into my eyes and not been saddened by what I saw.” He threw back his head and exhaled a gout of smoke. “I’ll help you.”

“Time travel is so much more difficult than interdimensional travel—and it’s not as if interdimensional travel were easy--”

“We’ll manage,” said King Loki. “Together, the two of us should have enough power.”

***

_The past_

It had begun with randy morning touches. Their twin erections, the warm press of waking flesh. And for the first time in nearly two weeks, Loki felt normal. But then the sunlight roused him to full wakefulness, and nothing was normal at all.

This was the first time they had attempted sex since the miscarriage. As Bruce climbed on top of him and began kissing his neck, Loki said, “We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to pretend.”

Bruce ground his cock against him. “Um. I’m not pretending.”

“Are you certain? We haven’t done anything in almost a week and a half. We never go that long.”

“You didn’t approach me. And although I knew you were healed physically, you were still grieving. I was afraid my advances would seem…vulgar.” He paused to nuzzle Loki’s chest. “But I wanted to. I wanted you after I finally broke down on the plane.”

“How?” Loki asked tearfully. “Our baby died inside me, couldn’t get out because my birthing stoma hadn’t developed. How can you look at me without seeing a coffin?”

Bruce pushed up and stared down at Loki in silence. Tears streamed from the corners of Loki’s eyes and slid into his hair. He sniffled and turned his face away. “Please look at me,” Bruce whispered. With difficulty, Loki met his gaze.

After a few heartbeats, Bruce said, “When I look at you, I see some kind of heaven. I quit believing in such things years ago, but if a heaven exists, for me, it exists in you. I go there every time I slip inside you, every time we kiss, whenever I look into your eyes. When I look at you, I see the multiverse staring back at me. I see wonder and beauty and a billion things I’ll never fathom. You are my infinite everything.” His tears fell onto Loki’s chest. “Where the hell do you get ‘coffin’ out of that?”

Loki pulled Bruce’s face close, and they kissed in the morning light.

***

_The present_

Loki was relieved when the armed escort led them into Tony’s main lab and departed. Although he had long grown used to such things, King Loki’s spine had noticeably stiffened, and Loki had felt little surges of power crackling off him as his hands itched to cast spells. “You’re safe here,” Loki reassured him once again, whispering.

“Hello, Lokis.” Tony gave King Loki a slight nod, then smirked as he looked Loki up and down. “Nice threads, Games.”

Loki dusted a hand down his vintage clothing and shrugged. “Time travel.”

“You’re going to Ohio to visit nine year old Bruce. Aren’t you over-dressed?”

“I also have business with his father.”

Tony grew stern. “I can’t let you kill him. I understand the desire, but--”

“I have to frighten him.” Loki shook his head. “I can’t kill him. As an adult, Bruce kills him, and that could be one of the reasons he doesn’t judge me so harshly-- I can’t afford to change that.” He looked at Tony imploringly. “If nothing else, Tony, you know my selfishness will keep me in check.”

Tony’s expression softened, and he seemed about to say something when King Loki hissed at Loki, “That’s Stark?”

Loki frowned at his confusion. “Tony Stark. Billionaire. Playboy. Genius.”

“Iron Man. Leader of the Underground. My sworn enemy.”

Loki took a deep breath. “In your universe. In mine, he’s Bruce's best friend, best man at my wedding, and godfather to my son. He’s like family.” He flashed a slightly embarrassed smile at Tony, who seemed to be enjoying the exchange. “He’s better than family, really. I still have days when I want to shove that hammer up Thor’s ass, sideways.”

King Loki, wide-eyed, had drawn up like a cobra assessing a mongoose. “I...don’t believe I’ve ever seen you without the suit,” he told Tony, his careful voice still betraying traces of awe.

Tony looked at Loki askance. Loki cleared his throat and turned to King Loki. “Why don’t you decide where you want to set up? I’ll be with you in a minute.” He sighed as King Loki left and said quietly to Tony. “Thank you for letting us do this here and agreeing to help.”

“I’m assuming the energy output isn’t the only thing you want me to monitor.”

“I want to trust him…”

“Trust but verify?”

Loki nodded. “Bruce would trust him, but I’m not Bruce. And…I know him too well.”

The inventor’s ever-present smirk diminished at the mention of his friend. “You’re sure Bruce can’t be part of this?”

“It’s Helica’s Law of Crux. She was a great sorceress, an explorer of time. A loop in flux is fraught with peril. If the individual at the center of the loop, the crux, gains knowledge of his significance, he can, unwittingly, cause a rifaknut—an unraveling. It could destroy our universe and King Loki’s, too.”

Tony frowned at him uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I could say it really, really fast like they do on ‘Doctor Who.’” He obliged when Tony didn’t reply.

Tony smiled. “You’re right. That works.”

Soon they had an appropriate space set aside for casting the vortex and had the equipment calibrated and ready to monitor it. “We’ll need blankets for reentry,” King Loki told Tony, “in case of temporal shock.”

“I’ll have Pepper bring some blankets.” To Loki he said, “This is more dangerous than you’ve been leading me to believe, isn’t it?”

“I’ve told you all of the important points.”

“Loki,” he said quietly, drawing close. “Do you have any idea how upset he’ll be if you save him and lose yourself in the process?”

“But he’ll be safe. That’s all that matters.”

“Are we ready?” King Loki asked with a touch of impatience, obviously displeased that Tony and Loki were engaged in private conversation.

“Yes, absolutely!” said Loki, tensing with resolve.

Tony gave him a quick, fierce hug. Loki left him with the monitoring equipment and joined King Loki in the center of the room. Together, they cast a portal which opened before them in a blaze of argent and midnight. “You have it?” Loki asked his twin. King Loki seemed to struggle with the spell for a moment, but nodded. Loki pulled on his coat and disappeared into the vortex.

  



	9. Chapter 9

_The past. Bruce is nine._

Loki gasped. A sharp crack, like thunder, tore through his skull. In the spinning darkness, he pried himself free of something hard and sticky. He fumbled in the brightening haze and slid to the rough, uneven ground. As his vision cleared, he realized he sat on a nest of tree roots, some as wide as his thigh.

“This tree isn’t supposed to be here,” he muttered. “Damn Google Earth!”

“I think you killed that tree,” said a small voice.

He looked at the boy who had spoken, then at the tree behind him. The oak was deeply dented and weeping sap. “Bruce?”

The boy crouched in front of him, examining him with large brown eyes. One bright, dark eye was surrounded by a halo of faded yellow-green bruise, the corner near his nose still a florid magenta. “Oh, Bruce,” Loki said sadly. “It is you.”

The slightest hint of excitement crept into the boy’s somber face. “You know my name.”

“I’m sorry about the tree.” Loki knew how Bruce loved trees. He felt compelled to close his eyes.

“You’re hurt,” the boy said, voice heavy with sympathy.

Loki strained to wakefulness. “A little. It’s not so bad; I heal quickly.” He smiled, embarrassed. “Hello, Bruce. I'm Koil. This isn’t quite the entrance I had planned--”

"You can’t stay here.” Bruce bolted up suddenly. “He’ll be home any minute. He can’t know you’re here.” He offered Loki his hand. “Come on. I’ll hide you.”

Loki took the little hand and rose with effort, and more pain than he had anticipated, and staggered across a sandy lot strewn with dead leaves and tufts of grass. They stopped at another large old oak, and Loki caught the trunk with his free hand and rested against it. Bruce let go of his hand and began climbing up little boards nailed to the wide trunk. “Up here,” he said, motioning for Loki to follow.

Loki sagged a little. “Bruce, I’m so dizzy.” He shut his eyes for a second, trying to think.

“You have to hide.” The boy’s voice was sharp with fear.

“Can you carry me?” With a steadying breath, Loki assumed the shape of their cat Feynman.

Bruce, eyes wide, stared down at him for a minute. Then he picked Loki up carefully and ascended the tree. When they got to the tree house, Bruce sat Loki on a remnant of brown shag carpet. “Are you going to be alright?” he asked softly, hesitantly stroking Loki between his cat ears. He frowned a little. “I should pull out your splinters.” He left to rummage in another corner of the tree house.

Loki assumed his usual form to tell him not to bother, but passed out on the ugly carpet remnant before he could say anything at all.

***

_The past. A few months after the miscarriage._

Loki found it difficult to be excited. The cement floors and sharp odors of the animal shelter were oppressive. And all of the cats looked sad. Bruce grabbed his hand suddenly and pulled him close. “There he is! Look!”

Loki frowned at the very ordinary-looking brown tabby behind the glass. “I thought we wanted a kitten.”

“Yes, but that’s our cat!” He seemed perplexed that Loki didn’t share his excitement. “Here, let’s try it this way.” He covered Loki’s eyes with his hands.

“Bruce!” Loki giggled.

“Now look.” Bruce removed his hands.

“Yeah. He seems like a nice enough cat.”

“You don’t feel that? That--” Bruce fanned his fingers in front of his chest and wiggled them. “You know, eureka?” He sighed when Loki laughed at him. “Laugh all you want. It’s the same feeling I had when I first saw you.”

The cat rubbed its neck against the glass. Loki put his hand as close to the pane as he could without touching it. “I’ve heard it’s more difficult for the adults to find homes… Let’s go into a room with him and see what he’s like.”

“Fine. But I can tell you what he’s like. He’s perfect. He’s our cat.”

Grinning, Loki caught one of Bruce’s hands and cradled it against his chest. “I’m sure he’s wonderful. You do have good instincts.”

***

_The past, Bruce is nine._

Loki woke to some scratchy recording of music. Above the recorded voice of the male singer, a live child’s voice, almost angelic, sang along. “Psycho killer, / Qu'est-ce que c'est?”

“Talking Heads, right?” Loki stretched as he sat up, dislodging an ice pack and several bags of frozen peas and carrots.

The boy, on the floor hunched over a notebook, startled. “Yes. ‘Psycho Killer.’” He switched off the portable record player and sat close to Loki. “You’re better?”

"I am.” He frowned, grabbing a handful of the shag carpet. “But I think someone killed Chewbacca.”

Bruce snickered.

Loki shifted his position, but the movement sent a shooting pain through his head. He winced, closing his eyes for a second. A small hand stroked the side of his head. He opened his eyes and found the boy’s face inches from his own. “I’m still healing.”

Bruce caught a quick breath and flinched away. “I was just making sure you were okay. That wasn’t gay or anything.”

“It seemed like concern.” He resisted touching Bruce’s hand. “You do know that gay doesn’t mean bad, right? Lots of good people are gay.” He smiled. “I’m gay.”

Bruce studied him carefully. In a voice close to a whisper, he said, “I’m gay, too.”

“See? Lots of nice people.” He healed himself with a slight gesture. “And while we’re on the topic, faggots are kindling; fags are cigarettes, and we are gay. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it.” He looked directly into Bruce’s eyes. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

The boy grinned, then he began speaking in a rush. “I packed a few things while you were sleeping. Just a few books and some records. Should I take my record player, too? It takes C batteries. Do they have C batteries where you’re from?”

Loki felt sick. He should have realized Bruce would want to come with him. He tried to put a stop to it, but could only stare at Bruce helplessly.

“That’s okay. I’ll pack extra.” He paused. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s why you knew my name? Because you’ve come to take me away?”

“I can’t take you anywhere,” said Loki. “I’m sorry. I wish I could.”

Bruce was very quiet. His eyes watered. “Oh,” he said softly. “Aren’t you an angel? You’re so beautiful, I thought…”

Loki winced with pity. Adult Bruce was an atheist fascinated by eastern mysticism who found solace in randomness and in the arms of a pagan deity. Little Bruce yearned for the fairytale comfort of an ordered universe where good always triumphed over evil and his mother waited for him behind pearlescent gates. “I’m not really an angel. I’m sorry.”

“You’re an alien?”

“In a way-- Listen, Bruce, what I am isn’t important. What’s important is why I’m here.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here because some day you save my life, and everything that is good in it from that moment on I owe to you.”

Although Loki had delivered that line with every ounce of gravitas and sincerity he could muster and thought it as eloquent as anything his silver tongue had fashioned, Bruce reacted with a skeptical frown. “I think you have the wrong Bruce. There’s a Bruce Banker that goes to my school. He’s a grade ahead of me. He’s probably who you want. He lives a few streets over. I can take you to his house.”

“No. You’re my Bruce.”

“I can’t be the one who saves you,” Bruce said gravely, suddenly cryptic. “I have other plans.”

Before Loki could respond, his stomach growled loudly. “Uh, do you have anything to eat? Both time traveling and healing require vast amounts of energy.”

Bruce stared at him for a long time. He nodded slowly. He walked to the far end of the tree house, grabbed a small brown bag, and brought it to Loki. Loki opened it and pulled out a plastic bag of chiplike things. “Funyons” declared the bag’s happy letters. He looked at the rest of the brown bag’s contents: a warm orange soda and a couple of little peanut butter cups. “Oh,” said Loki, comprehending the boy’s hesitation. “I’m sorry… If these are important--”

“You’re important,” said the boy, his young face so certain and sincere that Loki saw the man for a moment.

Loki’s vision blurred with tears. “So are you.”

The boy’s mouth twisted sideways. He took the Funyons from Loki, opened them, and placed the bag back in Loki’s hand. “You just eat them like this,” he said, miming dipping his fingers in a bag and pulling out an imaginary Funyon. He took a deep breath. “The soda should really be cold, but I’ve gotten used to drinking things warm. I guess you won’t even notice. Do they have soda where you’re from?”

“They do.” Loki smiled. “But the person I love doesn’t allow it in our home.” He looked about the tree house. Pieces of broken mirrors decorated the walls and ceiling. A mobile of white paper cranes hung in one corner. In another, pillows sat atop neatly folded blankets. A crate of paperbacks, a crate of comic books, and a crate of records lined the wall near the record player, which sat on a crate of its own. The tidiness of the space combined with the minimalist decorations that played with light and air reminded him of Bruce’s apartment before Loki introduced dozens of chickens and vibrant Moroccan textiles into it. “This is a great tree house,” he told Bruce.

“My neighbor, Hahn, helped me build it. He’s really cool. He used to get bullied when he was little, so I guess that’s why he let me hang out with him. He gave me a bunch of his comics and records when he left for college last year.” His enthusiasm dampened a little. “He sent me a couple of letters, but he’s really busy now. He has a girlfriend. She has a mohawk and a ring in her nose. She’s an English lit major, so you know what that means.”

Loki stared at the boy. “No. What do you think it means?”

Bruce frowned at the floor for a moment. “I guess,” he said shyly, “it means she really likes to read?”

Loki grinned, unable to completely thwart his laughter. “That’s what I would’ve guessed.” He paused, his eyes drawn again to the collection of pillows and blankets. “Do you sleep here?”

“I stay here as much as possible.”

“It’s winter. Don’t you get cold?”

The boy shrugged. “I have blankets. It’s kind of like camping.”

Loki snorted. “Yes, you love camping.” He picked up one of the candies. “Why don’t you eat this one?” He tossed it to Bruce. As the boy unwrapped the candy, Loki said, “Okay, let’s start with something easy. First, don’t get this friendly with other strange men. I’m okay because…”

“Because you’re not evil.”

“You can’t tell if someone’s evil just by looking.”

“No. You can tell by the way they make you feel.” All hint of childishness had vanished from the dark eyes. “I live with evil every day; I can recognize it.”

Loki fought a sick hopelessness. “What’s wrong with him? You’re so small. Can’t he see that?” He wanted with all his heart to tear the child away from this place, to flee with him through the vortex, to raise him alongside Loden and let him know nothing from this day forward but nurturing and kindness and love.

But that wasn’t possible.

Loki's vision dimmed. A wave of darkness moved over him. “Koil?” The little voice sounded frightened and faraway. He breathed deeply and found Bruce holding him.

Loki hugged the boy to his chest. “I’m all right.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m weak. That’s all. I probably need to eat more. I’m fine.”

Bruce pulled away and wrapped a blanket around Loki. “I’m short on supplies at the moment. I have some tea. Would that make you feel better?”

“Tea would be nice.”

Bruce produced a canteen, a small container, and an orange plastic cup. He poured some powder from the container into the cup, added water from the canteen, and swirled the cup around to stir it. He handed it to Loki. Loki stared at the concoction in surprise and horror. “What’s this?”

Bruce showed him the powder container, which, oddly enough, had a picture of a glass of iced tea on it. “Tea.”

Loki smoothed a hand down the boy’s face. “Oh, Bruce,” he said sadly, “does the savagery of your childhood know no limits?” He struggled with another wave of dizziness. “I’m sorry. What I actually need is protein.”

“There’s peanut butter in the house,” said Bruce. Before Loki could protest, he was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

_The present._

Tony scowled at the monitor. “These readings keep fluctuating. What are you doing---” Instead of watching the vortex, King Loki was staring at him with Boo Radley creepiness. “Hey! Starebear! Eyes on the time portal.”

King Loki turned his attention back to the spell. “You’re actually quite handsome when you’re not trying to kill me.”

“Thanks. I’ll give you an autograph later.” He paused. “You know I’m not gay, right?”

“Hmm. You are in my universe. In fact, you’re famous for how much cock you suck. In my universe, you’re an insatiable cockaholic.”

“Yeah," said Tony. "And in mine, you have a pet chicken. You need to focus.”

***

_The past, 1979._

Loki sat cross-legged on the carpet remnant riffling through comic books in the fading light. The boards creaked lightly as Bruce entered. Loki flipped a page in disgust. “I understand the Marvel stuff, but what’s with all the DC? Don’t you think the characters are rather flat?”

Bruce dropped a backpack beside Loki. “They’re okay.” His voice was noncommittal.

“Okay?” Loki frowned as the boy looked through the pile of items displaced from the backpack when he went to get food. “Fine, then. But the plots are derivative and jejune.” He grinned suddenly. “You taught me that word. Do you know it yet?”

Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 14 in C sharp minor greeted his questions. The 1968 recording performed by Emil Grigoryevich Gilels. He looked up to find the boy cocooned in a blanket in the farthest corner. The record was the only classical piece in his little collection. Bruce’s mother had been a pianist…. It was hers, Loki realized suddenly, and this song was his sole connection to her. That he would seek solace in it now-- Anger and helplessness filled Loki’s chest. “He was there. He hurt you, didn’t he?”

“Leave me alone,” Bruce said quietly.

“I want to help you.”

“Leave me ALONE!” The boy’s voice shook with rage.

“I didn’t come here to leave you alone. I came here to save you.”

Bruce’s head whipped around from out of the blanket, his face chalk-white and tear-streaked. “Then you’re doing a really shitty job of it.”

“Bruce--”

“And why me? What about her? Why didn’t you save her?”

“I--”

“If you’re an angel, you’re broken and you suck. If you’re a time traveler, you’re late and you blow. And if you’re an alien, you’re stupid and I hate you!” He huddled deeper into the blanket and began to sob.

Loki let him cry for a few minutes. “Bruce, please,” Loki said finally, “let me help you.” He inched closer. “Where are you hurt? I think the ice pack still has some ice in it, and I can make my hands cold.”

“Don’t talk to me.” He seemed to be straining for calm. “Don’t look at me. You can stay here, but you need to leave me alone.”

“You have no idea how much it hurts me to see you like this. Can I at least hold you?” Bruce didn’t answer. Loki sighed. “Look, Bruce. I know he beats you. Let me help you. Where did he hit you?”

“He didn’t,” said a small voice from inside the blanket. “He doesn’t always hit me.”

“But then wh---” An icy wave of comprehension washed over Loki. “Oh, Bruce,” he said softly.

“Please, leave me alone.” He began to cry very quietly within his cocoon.

Loki watched him for a minute, then shifted into the brown tabby. He padded across the floor and pressed next to Bruce’s blanketed thigh. Bruce pulled the cat into his lap and hugged it to his chest. He soaked Loki’s striped shoulder with tears.

After a while, Bruce sighed, kissed the cat between the ears, and left the blanket to turn off the record player. When he returned, he sat beside the cat and said, “You can be you again if you want.” Loki changed back to himself and leaned back against the wall. Bruce, sitting beside him, scooted closer. Loki put a cautious arm around the boy. Bruce sighed and relaxed against him.

Shadows fell around them. Loki combed his fingers through Bruce’s hair and traced his hairline with cool fingertips until the boy fell asleep. After bundling the boy in blankets, Loki ate the apple and the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Bruce had brought him and waited for Bruce’s father.

***

_The past, 1979._

Loki shifted to a magpie when he saw the van leave and followed it to a hotel bar. He assumed his own form and walked inside. Dim lights and bland music greeted him. The décor was awash in dark fabrics in large, gaudy patterns, and everything was wreathed in cigarette smoke. Although the bar wasn’t empty, it was far from full. Small clots of people were spread randomly throughout the lounge. He passed a table where two salesmen in bad suits appeared to be drowning their sorrows, and walked to the bar where Bruce’s father sat with one leg down, foot resting on the floor.

Loki sat on the leather stool next to him. “Hello,” he said. The man beside him was, in almost every way, unremarkable. He was of medium height, medium build; his hair was a medium brown. His quiet, business casual attire and well-kempt mustache could not have been more ordinary. However, the eyes that leered at Loki from behind the gold-framed sepia-tinted lenses were gray as dead mackerel and twice as cold. They did not look overtly cruel nor unintelligent, but they looked as if something vital were absent.

Those steely, empty eyes roamed Loki head to toe. “You here long?”

“No,” said Loki. “Just overnight.” Something in the set of the man’s shoulders, in the shape of his jaw and chin reminded Loki of Bruce. The similarities chilled him. He smiled. “I’m…Oscar,” he said, thinking of Bruce’s fish. “Laufey.”

The man drank, tipping his glass at Loki. “I’m Dr. Brian Banner.” He flashed Loki a predatory smile and pulled a soft pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. “You want one?”

“Thanks.” Loki took the cigarette. Brian flicked his lighter and lit his cigarette, then fixed Loki with that dead-eyed stare and held the flame between them. Loki bent toward him. With a slight inhalation and soft crackle, the cigarette was lit. Loki sat back with it and had the uncomfortable sensation that something between them had changed.

Brian’s expression had become smug and knowing. There was a subtle difference to his body language. Something relaxed, but also eager. He rattled the ice in his empty glass at the bartender smoking at the other end of the bar. “I need another of these,” he said as she walked up, “and get him whatever he’s having.”

“Gin and tonic. Thanks.”

“So, you’re catching a little freedom from the old ball and chain?”

Loki stared at him in surprise. Brian grinned at him and pointed with his cigarette at Loki’s left hand. Loki stared down at his hand and realized he had been fidgeting with his wedding band. He smirked. “Right.”

Their drinks came. Brian paid, his gaze sliding over Loki. “Do you know what real freedom is?” he asked after the bartender departed.

“Um. No.” Loki tried not to down his entire drink. Something was off here, and he didn’t know what.

Brian’s nearest leg pressed next to his. “Real freedom,” said Brian quietly, “is doing whatever the hell you want.” He picked his cigarette out of the large amber glass ashtray and pulled on it.

Bile crawled up Loki’s throat. Bruce’s father was hitting on him. Myriad emotions swirled within him. Beyond shock and disgust, he felt a tremor of pity. He had heard of the Closet and wondered for a moment if this was the source of Brian’s rage. But many gay men lived closeted lives during this time. A number married and had families. They didn’t abuse their wives and children. Brian wasn’t even gay necessarily. More likely, he was just an opportunistic, sadistic sociopath—preying on the vulnerable.

“Ah, women.” Brian sighed smoke. He was, apparently, eager to regale Loki with more creepy nuggets of wisdom. “Can’t live with them, can’t bash their fucking heads in.” He took a slow sip of his drink. Under his breath he amended, “You can, actually. They’re all soft and red inside—like the whore of Babylon.” He laughed.

Loki laughed, too, trying to mask his horror.

“You like to party, Oscar?”

“Of course! I love it!”

Brian took another long drag, eying Loki the entire time. “I’ve got some high grade blow.” He leaned toward Loki and surreptitiously stroked his inner thigh. “Let’s go have some fun.”

Loki followed him outside, but refused to get in Brian’s van. He needed room for the things he wanted to do. He wouldn’t be able to shapeshift into an eight-legged horse in the back of a van. With some effort, he lured Brian into an alley beside the bar.

Brian sat a small mirror from his pocket on the corner of a wine crate. Loki smiled. “That’s classy, Dr. Banner. You know how to make a man feel special.”

Brian ignored him and poured a white powder onto the mirror and cut it with a razor blade. He divided it into two fat lines. “This is my special recipe,” he said and snorted one. “Your turn.”

Loki hesitated. He had no idea exactly what this was or how it would affect his physiology. But he must have done this before. He took the straw and bent over the mirror. The next instant, Brian’s arm was around his neck. The inside of Brian’s elbow crushed against his windpipe, the upper arm and forearm closing like a vice.

For a breathless second he was paralyzed, shocked by the ferocity of the attack as much as by its suddenness. His vision blurred. His head felt as if it might explode. Had he been Midgardian, he was certain he would have lost consciousness.

Thankfully, he was not Midgardian.

He slammed back against the nearest brick wall. The wind left Brian with a rush of air past Loki’s left ear. The arm relaxed. Loki threw an elbow into the man’s gut and disentangled himself from the hold.

Loki was about to shapeshift when Brian flew at him. Loki had gone easy on him, knowing that the psychopath was supposed to survive this encounter. But he hadn’t gone that easy. Brian possessed a psychotic strength Loki had underestimated.

Brian’s left arm slammed into Loki’s throat as he pinned him against the wall. The crazed face in front of him didn’t look human. Brian’s skill and predatory confidence seemed inhuman as well. Loki thought of a fox hunting chickens. This was a planned and practiced attack. Brian had done this sort of thing before.


	11. Chapter 11

“You Eurotrash toilet-tramp!” snarled the hate-contorted face. His right fist rammed beneath Loki’s ribcage hard and deep enough to pull a grunt from him and tip him forward slightly. Another blow, to his jaw, snapped his head to the side. Again, the forearm smashed into his throat, cracking the back of his head against the brick wall. Little bits of mortar ticked down past his ringing ears.

“Go out, you fucking faggot!” Flecks of spittle sprayed from Brian’s mouth.

“No. I don’t think I will.” Loki caught another fist in the face. He smiled. Blood spilled from his mouth. He pulled the shadows around them and let power leak into his voice. 

“I’m not some desperate male prostitute. I’m not your scared wife nor your sweet little boy. I’m not vulnerable. I’m not weak. And I’m certainly not innocent. I am the god of evil, and you will do as I command!!!”

Brian released him and took a few steps back. Loki held him with a thread of magic.

“I am a demon from centuries past. Your hubris has awakened me.” He slipped into the shape of Sleipnir. “You think you know power? You know nothing.” He took Rebecca’s shape. “You think you know evil?” He multiplied so a chorus of Brian’s dead wives ringed around him. “Evil knows you.” He changed into a twin of the Hulk with skin mottled and gray like dead flesh. “You will never know freedom again, Dr. Banner. I will torment you the rest of your days!”

He turned back into himself and treated the stricken Brian to one of his charming smiles. “Or, perhaps I’m just some manifestation of your conscience.” Now, Brian stared at his own image. “Perhaps, if you go, right this instant, and confess your crimes, some good doctors can rescue you from me. Otherwise---” Loki shifted into undead Hulk again. This time, he was nude. “I might have to fuck you like this.” He smacked Brian upside the head with his cock, knocking the man against the dumpster.

He laughed as Brian stumbled out of the alley. Shifting into a magpie, he followed the van into the night.

***

After watching Brian’s barely coherent confession to the nearest policemen and seeing him cuffed and driven away, Loki returned to the tree house to say goodbye to Bruce. As Feynman, he climbed the tree. “Hey, Bruce. It’s me.”

“Koil?” Bruce pulled the cat inside. Candles flickered around the tree house, light dancing off the broken mirrors and filling the little room with light. “I thought you’d left.”

Loki resumed his normal shape. “I had to take care of some business.” He looked into Bruce's bruised little face and felt overcome, once again, by the sadness that saturated the boy like a stain. It wasn't the sort of thing that would be cleansed by a day or two of good luck. For an instant, doubt pulled at Loki like a sucking wound. Victory had not been won. Everything now would be decided by this conversation with a determined, grim little boy. "I should leave, but I need something from you first.”

“What do you need?”

Loki took a deep breath. “I need you to promise me you’ll stop trying to kill yourself.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” said Bruce, his voice painfully calm. “I can’t. I have to make it stop.”

“I know, but tomorrow, things will be better.”

Bruce stared at the floor. “It’s too late. I’m already…so messed up.”

Loki pulled the boy’s chin up. “You’re one of the most non-messed up people I know. Abuse either makes one stronger or breaks him—and sometimes a person is broken for a while before he’s able to be strong. But you survive, and--”

He didn’t want to lie to Bruce. “I would love to tell you everything is fine after that, but it isn’t. You just have to keep going, okay? Because, eventually, things get better. They get much better. You do meaningful work; you have colleagues who respect you and friends who love you. You have a sexy genius husband—and, although he’s kind of an ass sometimes, he loves you to bits--”

“Husband?”

“And there’s another reason to live. We make great strides in your lifetime.” He smiled. “There’s a good life waiting for you, Bruce. I promise. It just takes a while. You have to keep going.”

Bruce said nothing, his face still as a doll’s.

Feeling desperate, Loki took the boy’s hands and stared into his eyes. “In the future, you believe in me when no one else does. You show me how to move beyond my past. You change my life in a thousand positive ways. Of all my friends and allies you are my closest, dearest friend.” He blinked away tears. “I know that what I’m asking isn’t fair. But please, please don’t take that away from me. I need that future, and I need you in it.”

“Okay. I promise,” said Bruce softly.

Loki hugged him. “Thank you.”


	12. Chapter 12

_The present_

Loki felt a gust of wind tear at his clothes as the vortex closed behind him. He took two dizzy steps and found King Loki at his side. “Brian Banner. He’s 5’ 8"—5’ 9", medium build. Brown hair, gray eyes. Nuclear physicist.” He swallowed and held King Loki’s eyes. “Do your worst. It still won’t be bad enough.”

In his ear Tony said, “Did you just put out a hit on Bruce’s father?”

Loki blinked at him. “You mean the wife-murdering, child-abusing, pedophilic sadist with the savoir faire of a cockroach who is probably a serial killer and who, in that universe drove his nine-year-old son to commit suicide? Yes. I did.” He turned to King Loki. “And make sure he knows why.” He looked at Tony, wanting to explain. But his tongue felt heavy, and his head felt light, and his heart was burdened with an unbearable sadness. “There’s always going to be one I couldn’t save. And even the one I did--” He shut his eyes, gasping. “I had to leave him there. I had to leave him.” He didn’t realize he was sobbing until he felt the scruff of Tony’s chin scraping against his temple. Someone threw a blanket over him. “I had to.”

“It’s okay,” said Tony, speaking next to Loki’s face, holding him gently. Over Loki’s head he said, “He’s shaking really hard. We need another blanket.”

“I told him it would get better. I didn’t lie. I didn’t.” He shuddered against Tony’s chest. “But it takes such a long time.” He fell to sobs again.

“I just talked to him,” said Tony. “He’s fine. Loden’s fine. Everything’s okay.”

Loki pulled away a little to blink at him tearfully. “And he still loves me?”

Tony patted his back. “He fucking adores you.” Loki sank against him, trying to breathe normally. “It’s hard to get two sentences out of the man without a ‘Loki’ thrown in there somewhere.” He sighed, one hand rubbing between Loki’s relaxing shoulders. “You’ve practically ruined Thor.”

Loki’s heart dropped. “Wha--”

Laughing, Tony hugged him tight. “C'mon, Games. That was funny." When Loki couldn't answer, he amended, "It was Starebear’s idea.”

“I didn’t mean for you to do it while he was crying--”

“He’d stopped crying,” said Tony.

"You Midgardians know even less about comic timing than you do about engineering."

"Oh, yeah? If you knew even the first thing about engineering--"

Pepper freed Loki from Tony and led him to a chair while Tony and King Loki quarreled. In a moment, she had a brandy in his hand. He wrapped both hands around it. She placed her hands atop his and looked into his eyes. “Bruce loves you and misses you, and everything is normal.”

“Are you sure?” he asked in a small voice.

“You and Bruce are madly in love. You’re married. You belong to a group of superheroes called the Avengers. You have a son named Loden, a cat named Feynman, and a chicken named Daenerys.”

Loki sighed. “Yes. Normal.”

***

_Two hours later_

Once he had rested for a bit, Loki was able to cast an interdimensional portal for King Loki. Pepper and Tony told King Loki goodbye. To Loki, Tony said, “Whenever you’re ready to leave, I’ll have a car take you home.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I need to stop and get something.”

“Make as many stops as you like. I’m having a car take you home.” He frowned a little. “It’s either that or I’m carrying you. Take your pick.”

“I would pick carrying,” whispered King Loki.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Thank you, Games,” Tony said in a quiet voice. “Really.”

Pepper hugged both Lokis, then pulled Tony out of the lab. Loki was glad Tony and Pepper had given them some privacy. “I appreciate all of your help,” he told King Loki. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

King Loki glanced at his boots a little guiltily. “I’m sorry about the Thor thing.” He shrugged. “You know--” He grinned hugely and fanned his hands on either side of his face. “Mischief!”

“I’m beginning to see why Bruce doesn’t think it’s funny when I do that.”

“Bruce,” King Loki said with a touch of melancholy despite his smile. “Take care of him. And Loden.”.

“Before you go, I have something for you.” Loki pulled a small chicken figurine from his coat pocket and placed it in King Loki’s hand.

King Loki looked at him, nonplussed.

“Chickens are the first creatures to greet the dawn. They symbolize the beginning of a new day and the end of darkness.”

King Loki shook his head slightly. “I am the god of evil; I am the king of darkness.”

“We’re shapeshifters,” Loki smiled at him. “It’s our nature to change.”

“Yes, but that much change… I’m not like you. I have no Bruce.”

Loki pressed a hand against King Loki’s heart. “But you have me. You always have me.”

***

_The present_

The lights were out. Only the television lit the apartment. Amid a heap of blankets, Bruce lay on the couch with his legs fencing in Loden and Feynman. Loki bent and kissed Loden’s cheek. “I love you,” he whispered. Loden sighed, but didn’t wake. After giving Feynman a quick stroke, Loki rounded the cocktail table to see Bruce. He paused midway, the television catching his attention. It was Loden’s favorite, “The Sound of Music,” and although Loden’s fondness for it had made Loki almost hate it, this scene still mesmerized him. It was the scene where Maria, the mischievous free-spirit, and the staid, grief-stricken Captain acknowledge they have feelings for each other.

_Maria: Reverend Mother always said, “When the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.”_

_Captain: What else does the reverend mother say?_

_Maria: That you have to look for your life._

He managed to break free of the spell and knelt next to Bruce, placing his shopping bag on the floor next to him. Julie Andrews began to sing “Something Good” in a sweet voice that blushed with romance. Loki rested a hand atop Bruce’s and stayed there, wanting to wake him but too awed to move. “I saved the world,” he said in the barest whisper. “I saved you. And then you saved me. And I saved you. Into infinity.”

The song continued, ushering from the speakers around the room, “But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past/ There must have been a moment of truth.”

He caressed along Bruce’s hairline, stroking a finger behind his ear. “Thank you.”

“Loki?” Bruce blinked awake, smiling. He propped up on one elbow and smoothed a hand along Loki’s cheek.

Loki nuzzled Bruce’s hand. “Thank you for becoming someone capable of loving me,” he breathed. Loki blocked Bruce’s questions with his mouth.

They kissed for a long time, then Loki, with some reluctance, pulled away and drug the shopping bag closer. Bruce grinned at him. “Did you buy some sexy underwear? Or some lovely scarves? Maybe a few more black shirts?”

“It’s something for you.”

“Another gray sweater?”

Loki held up the plastic bag. Water refracted the light from the television.

“A fish?”

“And a bowl,” said Loki. “With a screen so Feynman can’t dip his paw in it.”

“A fish?” Bruce laughed.

“You don’t like him?”

“I love him. He’s gorgeous.” He took the bag from Loki and began examining it, holding it to the shifting light at different angles.

“He’s a betta. I thought his fins were pretty, and although he’s tipped with red, most of his body—I don’t know if you can see it in this light--”

“Is blue-green like your and Loden’s eyes.”

“Right.” Loki hugged him.

“He’s perfect,” said Bruce. “I don’t think I’ve had a fish since-- Oh.” His dark eyes shimmered in the dim light. “Oh, Loki.” He pulled Loki into another embrace.

Curling up in order not to disturb Feynman and Loden, Loki snuggled next to him. “What are you going to name him?”

Bruce stared at the bag of water and fish for a moment. “Koan,” he said softly and kissed Loki’s lips.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Soprano for identifying typos and errors.
> 
> Note: The idea that Bruce was abused as a child and later developed DID originated in Hulk comics written by Bill Mantlo and Peter David.


End file.
